


The Afterlife Fic (The Best I Ever Had in My Entire Life... Or Death)

by LovingCup



Category: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking because you really don't need condoms in the Afterlife, Blowjobs, But you do on Earth so stay safe kiddos, Closeted Character, Coma Baby, Come Swallowing, Comic Relief, Crying, Elevator Snogging, Emotional Viewing of Life Mistakes, Everyone is Dead, Given the length I guess we're in "Slow Burn" territory, Grinding, Happy, Kissing, Laughter, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Original Character(s), POV Louis, Parental Fighting, Past Character Death, Rimming, Romance, Shagging, Smut, Super Fluff Romance, Takes Place in the Afterlife!, Tattoos, Tons of Eating, Top Louis, True Love, emotional drama, footie, so many feelings, soul mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-05-15 07:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 491,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5776201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovingCup/pseuds/LovingCup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU- After dying in an accident, Louis Tomlinson arrives in the Afterlife. Not Heaven and not Hell, Louis finds himself in Judgment City UK: a pristine city  where the food and entertainment are divine and the newly departed must undergo a Review of their life on Earth to determine if they have lived a life worthy of advancement in the universe, or if they must be returned to Earth to be born again in a new body.<br/>On his first full day in the Afterlife, Louis meets Harry Styles, and the two have an instant connection. Over the course of their Reviews, they fall in love and begin to find that even though they didn't know each other on Earth, they are nonetheless linked to one another in perfect ways. Both are hoping to move ahead in the universe together, but they are challenged with the threat of separation if one or both of them is sent back to Earth to be born again.<br/>Loosely based on the Albert Brooks' film "Defending Your Life" starring Brooks and Meryl Streep. One scene in particular is drawn from the movie, but other than that scene and the general concept, this story veers far away from the film. There were no blowies in the 1991 movie, I swear!</p>
<p>  <a href="https://iamjaggerme.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Departure

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR SPOILERS IN THE COMMENTS!! PARTICULARLY FOR THE LAST CHAPTERS!!! 
> 
> This is a work of fiction and does not represent the real life counterparts depicted in this fic. I do not own any members of One Direction or their family members.
> 
> THIS STORY AND ITS CHARACTERS BELONG TO ME. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PRINT, OR DISTRIBUTE THIS WORK OUTSIDE OF SHARING LINKS TO THIS AO3 PAGE. I AM NOT AUTHORIZING TRANSLATIONS OF THIS STORY. PLEASE DO NOT TRANSLATE.
> 
> Thanks to my lovely Juan for being a superstar Beta and reading my smut even though he prefers "visual" over the written word!  
> Thank you to my beloved Team Inappropriate for just being wonderful and also reading my smut and listening to me cry about my dysfunctional family. ALW & DR foreves and evs amen. Never forget 7.12.13  
> Thank you to my beautiful @sureaintmebabe for basically being a perfect person and Queen Soul Twin. How blessed am I to know you? Love.  
> Thank you to @RogueforLove for being so fabulous and enthusiastic. You're the beesknees!
> 
> And thanks to you, Mystery Reader! I don't know if anyone will read this fic, but if you are taking time to do so, that's amazing and I am very appreciative that you would give your time to this endeavor.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Peace. Love. Happiness!

“I can’t believe I’m bloody doing this,” Louis says anxiously, letting out a small, nervous chuckle. He fidgets in his seat, adjusting his quiff in the passenger visor mirror and releases a long sigh to try to rein in his nerves.

“Lou,” Liam replies calmly, taking his eyes off the road momentarily to look at his friend directly, “you deserve this. You’ve earned this,” he says emphatically. “For Christ’s sake, relax and enjoy it.”

“It just… It just seems a bit over the top,” Louis responds, closing the mirror and shutting the visor. He turns fully in his seat to face Liam. “I’ve never purchased anything so extravagant in my entire life. It’s almost embarrassing.”

Liam rolls his eyes and smiles good-naturedly. “I’ve never met anyone who works harder than you in _my_ entire life. Or who is more generous. Or who worries so much about every little thing he does for himself.” He pauses and lets out a long sigh of his own, adding softly, “It’s okay to treat yourself, Louis. God knows it’s about time.”

“Hey,” Louis responds, prodding Liam gently in the ribs with his index finger, “don’t start that up again. I did what was right and I’m glad I did.”

“I’m just saying that if you hadn’t given her everything you had in the divorce, you could have bought this car three years ago.”

“I didn’t _give_ her anything, Liam,” Louis responds ardently. “She _earned_ every last pound. Especially after all I put her through.”

Liam lets out a breath and raises his eyebrows. “Louis,” he says, his voice revealing a hint of irritation, but then his eyes soften and his frown relaxes into a gentle smile. “I don’t want to get into this again with you. Especially not today. Not only are you picking up your brand new convertible – in the dead of winter, I might add, which is rather insane,” he winks, his voice starting to give in to excitement, “but you’ve officially been promoted to Vice-President in Charge of Creative. That’s absolutely huge! And you’ve worked so hard on your way up the ladder, Lou. This has been such a long time coming.” Liam lets out a sighing breath and squeezes Louis’ knee. “So please, Louis. You’ve finally made your very _last_ ridiculous alimony payment and your past is settled. No more talk of her, or of what you did or didn’t do when you were young and confused. Today is a celebration. A fresh start.”

“A fresh start,” Louis repeats wistfully, softly adding, “I’m ready for a fresh start.” He huffs out a breath and looks over to Liam, smiling fondly. “God. The smartest thing I ever did was choosing you for a best mate, Liam. You always know exactly what to say, whether I want to hear it or not.”

“I try.” Liam smiles, shrugging his shoulders.

“And you do realize that I saved a shit-ton of money buying that convertible in the off-season, don’t you?” Louis boasts. “It was a pretty savvy business decision, mate. Besides,” he adds, raising his eyebrows in a smirk, “spring is right around the corner. I’ll be putting the top down before we know it.”

Liam takes his left hand off the wheel and makes a fist, and Louis mimics the action, their hands meeting over the center console to bump. The two men smile at each other and then settle into a comfortable conversation, touching on topics ranging from Louis’ promotion and the perks that come with it (such as the sleek corner office with the breathtaking views of London), to Liam’s upcoming winter holiday to Spain, which will be his first trip abroad with his girlfriend, Sophia. They’ve just made the turn onto Park Lane and are only a few kilometers from the BMW dealership when Louis speaks again, bringing the topic back to his ex.

“So. Um… I know we agreed to drop the subject and all that, but did I tell you she’s engaged?” Louis asks.

“No!” Liam exclaims, his shock evident, but relief turning up the corner of his lips. “Who? When? I don’t remember hearing that she was even seeing anyone.”

“Yeah,” Louis answers quietly, his voice reflective. “She’s seeing someone, all right. She called me a few days ago. Met a fellow a few months back. His name is Max and he works in the tech industry. A bit of whirlwind, but she said that she knew on their first date that he was the one. They’re eloping to Las Vegas of all places, next month.”

“Wow, Louis. That’s really something. Good for her,” Liam says, smiling cautiously. “How are you feeling about all of this?”

“You know, I feel really happy for her,” Louis replies honestly. “She’s met someone whom she fully loves and who can give her the same love she deserves in return.” Quieter, he adds, “That’s all any of us want, isn’t it, to love and to be loved in return? I know I want that.” He lets out a soft breath. “God knows I never could give that to her.”

“Lou,” Liam answers, his voice edging on frustration, not because he’s mad at Louis, but rather because he’s angry that this issue still weighs so heavily on Louis’ shoulders, even after all this time, “you gave her everything you had in you and when you realized you couldn’t give her more, you let her go. It was the best decision for both of you.”

“I know,” Louis shrugs. “You’re right.”

Liam takes Louis’ hand in his own and speaks gently, yet firmly. “Of course I’m right. And we are done talking about your ex-wife.” He squeezes Louis’ hand tightly and offers him a broad smile. “Today is about you and everything you’ve worked so hard for. Now, let’s go celebrate by picking up that cock wagon of yours and getting you started on your future!”

Louis throws his head back and barks out a surprised laugh, his hands clutching his reddening cheeks, his eyes crinkling in delight.

“ _Cock wagon_!” he exclaims loudly. “What in fuck’s sake is a _cock wagon_ , Liam?”

Liam rolls his eyes, his words spilling out of his mouth enthusiastically in a rush of breath. “Well, Louis, a cock wagon is that sweet new car of yours that’s going to bring you all kinds of hot man meat and please tell me you bought that thing in that dreamy blue color that brings out your eyes because it’s sure to sweep any available stud right off his feet and plunk him down in the middle of that king size bed of yours.” Liam pauses and then adds sheepishly, “If he’s into blokes, of course.”

“ _Man meat_!” Louis laughs harder now. He feels both excited and a little embarrassed. Excited for his new car and the prospect of maybe even driving said car out on a date with someone he actually cares about, and embarrassed because his best friend is talking about pimping him out to hot single men. It’s both hilarious and endearing, and a situation Louis never could have imagined a few years ago, especially after the divorce when he was so unsure of himself.

“Liam Payne,” Louis chuckles, “are you sure you’re not on my team after all?”

“Absolutely not!” Liam replies laughing. “And don’t ever say that around Sophia. Wouldn’t want her to be jealous of my best mate.” His tone takes a more serious note. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you happy though, Lou. Or that I don’t want you to make up for lost time.”

Liam slows to a stop at a red light, still holding onto Louis’ hand and pulling it to his own chest. He leans over the center console and looks Louis straight in the eyes, lowering his voice and whispering seductively, “That car is the sexiest vehicle I’ve seen outside of a James Bond movie.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and licks his lips, his voice husky as he continues, “And you, Louis; you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever known. You know you’re drop-dead gorgeous,” Liam says leaning in even closer, his mouth so close to Louis’ that Louis can feel his breath on his lips. Louis cringes, drawing his head back several inches, shaking it slightly and arching his eyebrows in confusion, unsure of exactly where Liam is going with all of this.

Liam drops his voice again. “You are going to look so amazing driving that car, Lou. Every man in London is going to want to shag the living daylights out of you.”

Louis clears his throat, and mumbles, “Erm…” unable to form a more coherent sentence, utterly confused.

Liam’s face relaxes, seduction melting into a calm, unreadable expression, his voice returning to its usual, casual timber. “And who knows? That car might even bring you to the love of your life!” he offers happily.

Before Louis can respond, Liam returns his eyes to the road and hits the accelerator, just as the light turns green. Louis just stares at him for a moment, his mouth hanging open slightly, his expression dumbfounded. And then Liam can no longer maintain a straight face, his mouth breaking into a huge grin and a series of choked out laughs escaping his lips. Louis throws back his head and rolls his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Liam,” Louis mutters. “For a minute there I thought you were actually going to jump me bones.” The statement sends Liam into howling cackles and Louis cannot help but let out a series of small giggles himself, his attempts to rein them in quickly escalating into full-on laughter.

“You’re positively insane, Liam,” Louis laughs, catching his breath and pinching the skin on the top of Liam’s hand. “Fucking hell!”

Liam jerks his hand away. “Hey! No fair!” he cries, stretching out his fingers. He puffs out his chest, clearly proud. “I really had you going there for a minute, Tommo,” he boasts. “God, you should have seen your face!”

“Ah, bugger off,” Louis responds. “I know you’re all talk and no action.” He then winks at Liam, puckering his lips into a kiss, causing them both to again burst into fits of laughter because really, the thought of Liam and Louis as anything more than just friends is kind of hilarious. Louis lets out a long breath and giggles, “But you did shock the fuck out of me for a second there, you nutter.”

“Well, I may be a nutter, but every word I said was true. You’re hot as fuck, Louis.” Liam pauses and then momentarily removes his hands from the steering wheel, raising his palms in the air in a shrug. “Not my type…or desired sex, for that matter,” he continues, tilting his head from side to side as if in deep thought, Louis nodding his head and scrunching his face comically, as if in total agreement. “But hot as fuck nonetheless,” Liam continues. “And that car is hot as fuck. And you’re going to look like a sexy beast behind the wheel of that thing. So, please tell me. Did you get the blue or what?”

Louis raises his eyebrows and shirks his shoulders in response.

“Liam. Black is a more sensible color…”

“Black is not a color!” Liam interjects.

“Yes, but black is more appropriate for taking clients to luncheons and attending corporate events and all that.”

“But the blue…” Liam interrupts, sighing wistfully.

“San Marino Blue,” Louis corrects.

“Yes! Yes! San Marino Blue! Lou, that color is gorgeous. I’ve never seen a blue like that in my life. And I’ve never seen a car before that actually brings out the color in a person’s eyes. That car brings out your eyes, Louis!” Liam practically shouts, pointing at his own eyes for added emphasis. Louis just shrugs and smiles.

“Looooouis,” Liam says, dragging out Louis’ name in a long whine, “you were born to drive that blue car. That San Marino Blue car! You look positively dashing in it.”

“But the black is more realistic.” Louis answers, laughing. “It’s simple. Understated, even.”

“The black is boring as fuck,” Liam answers, his agitation growing.

“Liam,” Louis says with a smirk, raising his eyebrows and then laughing softly, “I got the blue.”

“Fucking hell, yes!” Liam practically screams, slapping the heel of his hand enthusiastically on the steering wheel. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down!”

“Well, it’s my car, so I’m not sure how any color I choose would be letting _you_ down, but yes, I got the blue and you were right: it brings out my eyes and I am a hot sex god who looks fabulous in that vehicle.”

Liam holds out his fist to Louis as they turn into the dealership’s main drive, looking over at his friend as he pulls into an empty parking spot by the main entrance. “Fuck yes, you are. I’m so happy for you, Louis. You’ve been so hard on yourself. You deserve the world, and you’re going to have it all.”

Louis smiles shyly in return, bumping Liam's fist. “Thanks, mate,” he whispers.

And just like that, Liam breaks out into a wide grin and laughs. “And do you know what, Lou? You’re going to get it all in that shiny blue cock wagon of yours!”

Louis laughs loudly and leans over the center console, giving Liam a hug. “Thanks for coming with me today, Li. I know it’s a Saturday and you should be spending it with your girlfriend, not carting my arse around. It means a lot.”

Liam pulls a piece of paper from his pocket: a list on which dozens of items are carefully printed in elegant script. “Do you really think I was going to sit at home today, Lou?” he asks, flashing the paper in front of Louis’ face. “As soon as Soph heard I was coming to this side of town she whipped up quite the sizeable to-do list. I’ve got to stop at the dry-cleaners, swing into Bliss Chemists to pick up some kind of facial scrub that she’ll apparently die without, and then hit up Tesco on the way home for basically what amounts to a month’s worth of groceries.”

Liam lets out an amused breath. “Hauling your arse to the dealership is actually the only _fun_ thing on my agenda.” He holds the list in front of Louis’s face again and Louis’ heart swells when he sees that Liam has written “PICK UP LOU’S COCK WAGON” in capital letters and bright red marker, right at the top of the paper.

“All right, then,” Louis smiles. “Let’s go check one item off your list.”

Louis and Liam head towards the large showroom, Liam letting out a slow whistle as he surveys the dealership’s regal brick facade.

“Shit, Louis,” Liam laughs. “You have finally arrived.”

“Don’t I know it,” Louis smiles, “don’t I know it…”

The main showroom is huge, a small fleet of various model BMWs parked at angles across the shiny white tiled floor, wall-to-wall windows facing the street and letting in natural sunlight that bounces across the vehicles’ finishes and projects prisms of color on the walls and ceiling. A pretty attendant ushers the two into a fancy reception area off to the side of the main showroom and they are offered a choice of beverages, Louis declining, too nervous and excited to consider so much as a cup of tea, while Liam enthusiastically accepts a glass of champagne. They’ve barely had time to settle into one of the room’s comfortable leather sofas when Louis hears a familiar voice greeting him from the entranceway.

“Well there he is,” the voice calls out smooth and low. “Here to pick up your new baby, Mr. Tomlinson?”

Louis and Liam look up as a handsome, slender man in his mid-thirties, impeccably dressed in a dark grey Canali suit, enters the reception area.

“I certainly am,” Louis responds, grinning from ear to ear. “Hello, Austin,” he smiles, extending one hand to the salesman and motioning towards Liam with the other. “Austin Green, I want you to meet my friend Liam Payne. He was kind enough to bring me here today so that I may squander my life savings in the name of German engineering.”

Austin throws his head back and laughs and then shakes Liam’s hand, offering a courteous good morning. “Listen,” Austin says, his voice barely above a whisper, as he leans in conspiratorially, “there are far worse things you could throw your money away on than a BMW M6. You know, like a house, college fund for the kids, retirement…”

“Very funny,” Louis interjects, raising an eyebrow and offering a friendly smirk of his own. “Don’t add to my guilt, Austin. Just bring out my vehicle so I can get on with my life and you can enjoy your nice, fat commission check.”

Austin smiles, “The boys are just gassing her up for you now. Then they’ll bring her ‘round front. I’ve got a few papers for you to sign and then she’ll be all yours.”

The three go into Austin’s office and Louis looks over the final paperwork.

“I feel like I’m signing my life away,” he sighs as he scrawls his signature and initials across a stack of carbon documents. “This car payment is absolutely ridiculous.”

“You can afford it!” Liam and Austin exclaim simultaneously, pointing at each other and smiling in recognition. Louis just shakes his head, letting out a nervous breath.

“You’re going to love her, Louis,” Austin continues. “560 horsepower, 4.4-liter, twin power Turbo V-8 engine. This car will take you from zero to 80 in 3.5 seconds.”

“Never really had a need for speed,” Louis answers, slightly embarrassed. “I just wanted something special, you know?”

“And something to help you get laid,” Liam offers, Louis rolling his eyes and gently punching Liam on the shoulder in response.

“Even better,” Austin grins, not-so-subtlety looking Louis up and down, which Louis decidedly chooses to ignore.

The three men make idol chitchat; Austin explaining some of the features Louis’ new car offers and exclaiming that the BMW M6 convertible coupe is one of the sleekest vehicles in the BMW fleet. “You only test drove her in the city, Louis. Wait till you get her out on the motorway. You’re simply not going to believe how well she handles.”

“Why do you keep saying _her_ and _she_? What makes you think this car is female, anyway?” Louis asks, raising his eyebrows. “I rather think of Blue as gender neutral.”

“ _Blue_? You’re naming your car _Blue_?” Liam asks incredulously. “At least jazz her, err… sorry… _its_ name up a bit. Something sexy, yeah?”

“Something sexy like 'cock wagon' you mean?” Louis laughs.

“No! No! Besides, _cock wagon_ is not a name, Louis. It’s more of a descriptor. How about Blue Steel? Oh, wait! What about Blue Magnum? Those are very sexy names,” Liam offers proudly.

Louis looks positively affronted. “My car, _Blue_ ,” he says slowly, for added emphasis, “does not belong to Derek Zoolander. And seriously, Liam: who would name a car Blue Magnum? I’m not driving around in a damn condom.”

Liam opens his mouth to speak but Louis cuts him off, warning him, “Don’t even go there.”

Before Liam even has a chance to respond, Austin receives a call informing him that Louis’ car is ready and parked out front. The three men walk back through the showroom and out the front door of the dealership, Louis and Liam both drawing an audible gasp at the sight of Louis’ new vehicle.

“Holy shit, Lou!” Liam happily exclaims. “I almost forgot how gorgeous this car is.” Louis just grins and nods his head in agreement, too excited to offer much else.

The car is beautiful, really: a sleek, two-door body in a brilliant shade of blue that’s somehow a cross between royal and sapphire, the car’s finish positively gleaming in the crisp morning light, its alloy wheels shining in the sun. The interior of the car is a dream, with buttery-soft ergonomic black leather seats and a shiny carbon fiber trim that adorns the side panels and center console. The dashboard boasts a sophisticated, electronic interface and touch screen monitor for use in controlling the vehicle’s many operational functions. A service technician is waiting beside the vehicle and hands Louis two keyless remote fobs, opening the driver side door for Louis to climb inside, Liam enthusiastically jogging around to the other side and sitting in the passenger seat.

Before Louis can sit down, however, Austin dismisses the technician with a flick of his wrist and takes Louis’ hand in his, slipping Louis an embossed business card. He leans in close to Louis and practically growls, “I know you’re going to absolutely love this car, Louis. But I want you to call me if you need anything. _Anything_ ,” he emphasizes, his mouth sneering wide in a lascivious grin. “I’ve written down my private number so you can call me day… or night.” He clutches Louis’ hand harder, gently rubbing his thumb over Louis’ wrist. “I’d love to show you all the ins and outs,” he pauses, his tongue flicking out to lick his bottom lip, “…of this vehicle,” he finishes. “I can promise you quite a ride.”

“Oh,” Louis mutters, momentarily flustered, carefully pulling his hand away. “That’s… that’s very nice of you, Austin. Very kind.” He clears his throat and lets out a breath, quickly regaining his composure. “I think I’ve got everything covered, but… Um… If I should have any questions, I’ll be sure to ring the service department,” he nods, pulling his shoulders back and looking Austin directly in the eye. “I cannot thank you enough for all of your help. It was a pleasure doing business with you.” He offers a tight, but pleasant smile and takes his seat behind the steering wheel, reaching out for the handle of the driver side door.

Austin’s face flashes an irritated grimace that almost instantly melts into a painted-on smile. He pats the car’s closed canopy roof and wishes Louis safe travels before returning to the vehicle showroom.

“Ten points for the cock wagon,” Liam smirks knowingly, as Louis pulls his door closed.

“Can you fucking believe that?” Louis exclaims. “I mean, Austin is a nice guy and all that, but in the four times I’ve been to the dealership before settling on Blue, I’ve witnessed him hitting on half the men that have walked through the door.”

“Well,” Liam responds, “he’s good looking, successful and he seems friendly enough. What’s the problem?”

“The problem, Liam,” Louis explains, “is that Austin wants one thing and one thing only. And I don’t want a one-night stand or a fling. I’m ready for something real. I could never have anything substantial with that guy.”

“But don’t you want to sow your wild oats? Get out and play the field a bit?” Liam asks curiously. “You were with El all those years, and you barely dated after the divorce. You’ve got all the time in the world to settle down. This is your fresh start, remember? Have some fun!”

Louis tilts his head from side to side, considering how to properly convey to his friend that he’s not interested in quick shags and “I’ll call you sometime” encounters with random men. He’s ready for something true and permanent.

“Liam,” Louis starts, “I spent years as a confused, closeted man stuck in a heterosexual marriage.” He lets out a slow breath and ruefully huffs, “When my marriage ended I needed time to figure some things out, and it was really difficult. But I got there eventually. _And_ ,” he stresses, “I’ve definitely been on more than my fair share of dates, some awkward, but some really nice.” For a brief moment, Louis thinks of a chiseled face framed by a shock of black hair, but he quickly pushes that thought out of his mind completely. He turns to face Liam fully and offers him an affectionate smile. “For the record, I am certainly not a virgin. I may not have had a lot of partners, but I’ve had enough to know that I want more than a one-night stand or a fuck buddy. It’s my turn, Liam. I want what you have. I want love.”

“Lou,” Liam whispers gently, his face soft and fond.

“Now don’t get all mushy on me, Liam,” Louis reprimands, trying to hold in a smile. “I’m not trying to make you swoon, so put away the heart-eyes, Mr. Romance. I’m just saying that I’m ready for something more.”

“I’m happy for you, Lou,” Liam responds. “You deserve more and I know you’re going to find it. And if the cock wagon plays a key role in your future romance, then more power to her!”

“Very funny,” Louis laughs. “Now. I don’t want another word on the subject. I figured you would be shitting yourself over this Beemer and all you’re doing is lamenting my sex life and I’m getting irritated. Tell me what you think about my new car!”

Liam opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again, thoughtful for a moment before he turns his attention back to Louis’ BMW.

“Fuck Lou,” he says, his face opening up into a broad grin, “you’re totally right! Why on earth are we wasting time talking about your non-existent love life when we are sitting in an eighty-thousand pound automobile?”

“My point exactly,” Louis responds, relieved at the change in subject.

“Seriously, Louis. This car is so fucking amazing,” Liam sighs. “God. I wish I could blow off Sophia’s list and spend the day cruising around the city with you.”

Louis looks over at him and smiles. “Liam my friend,” he says, trying to hold back his excitement, “Some journeys a man must make alone.” He reaches over the console and gives Liam’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Anyway, it’ll be kind of fun to take her out by myself. Get used to her and all that.” Liam raises his eyebrows and starts to speak, but before he can, Louis realizes what he’s just said. “Shit,” he continues, “I guess Blue is a female after all.”

After Liam explores just about every option on the dashboard’s display screen, tries out the seats’ air conditioning and heat controls, and talks Louis into seeing just how far each seat will recline (the answer is completely horizontal and Louis thinks he has died and gone to heaven with how comfortable he is lying supine next to his best mate in his new car), the service technician returns and knocks gently on Louis’ window, offering to help Louis sync his phone to the car’s computer system. Liam climbs into the back seat to allow the tech to sit beside Louis.

After showing Louis how to transfer his phone’s contacts to the car’s internal database and sync his iTunes playlist to the vehicle’s wireless Bluetooth system, the technician provides a brief tutorial on the various switches and controls peppered about the car’s dash, encouraging Louis to read the vehicle handbook to better familiarize himself with the BMW’s many features. He then shakes Louis’ hand and offers him a friendly congratulations on his new ride before leaving Louis and Liam on their own.

Liam begrudgingly climbs out of the car, muttering under his breath how much he hates to shop and how he wants to spend the day “dragging around London” with Louis instead. He walks around to the driver side door and Louis opens it, looking up at Liam happily.

“Well Liam,” Louis says, “I guess this is it.”

Liam gently taps his closed fist against the car’s open doorframe, leaning down to peer into the car and softly grinning at Louis in return. “Time to start your new adventure, Louis,” he responds, his voice full of affection, “and I think this might just be your greatest adventure yet. It’s your time, Lou. You deserve the world.”

“Now don’t go getting sentimental on me again, Liam,” Louis says fondly, stepping out of the vehicle to give his friend a warm hug. “Although, to be fair, I am looking forward to all of the cock that Blue will surely bring my way,” he jokes. The two men laugh and fist bump and Louis promises Liam he’ll take him out for a drive the following day. He climbs back into his new car, settling into the driver seat, Liam once again leaning in.

“You really do look stunning in this car, Lou,” Liam exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. “I can’t wait until we go for a spin together. And I cannot wait to see you driving her with the top down, come summer.”

Louis smiles warmly. “See you tomorrow then, mate?” he asks, extending his hand outside the door to lightly clasp with Liam’s.

“You can count on it,” Liam responds, and then adds with a laugh, “I better hit the road, Lou. That facial scrub isn’t going to buy itself.”

Louis chuckles. “See you tomorrow, then,” he repeats, and then shuts his door. He watches Liam climb into his own car and the two wave at each other as Liam drives by and then pulls out of the car park, turning onto Park Lane and disappearing into the flow of traffic.

Louis takes a moment to adjust his seat, moving it forward and then slightly back in order to comfortably reach the vehicle’s foot pedals. He then presses the ignition switch and brings Blue to life, her engine literally purring beneath him. Before putting the car into drive, Louis pulls up the stereo feature on the dash’s computer screen, selecting an iTunes shuffle playlist, the opening bars of The Script’s “Superheroes” emitting through the cabin surroundsound speaker system.

 

_When you've been fighting for it all your life_

_You've been struggling to make things right  
_

_That's how a superhero learns to fly_

 

“And we’re off,” Louis says to himself, hardly containing his grin as he puts his new car in drive. He lets out a long breath and settles into his cushiony leather seat, enveloped in total comfort and bursting with pride. He sings along happily to the stereo, pulling onto the short drive that leads to the dealership’s entrance and then looks both ways before carefully turning onto Park Lane and merging into the heavy traffic.

“Take her to sea, Mr. Murdoch,” Louis says dramatically as he hits the accelerator. “Let's stretch her legs.” Louis giggles to himself, thoroughly amused that he is quoting _Titanic_ even though he has no audience to appreciate his efforts.

He continues north on Park Lane for several kilometers and then turns right onto Upper Grosvenor Street, unsure of actually where he is headed, but thoroughly enjoying the ride.

Louis has just passed Grosvenor Square Garden, happy as he has ever been, and is approaching the intersection of Grosvenor and Davies streets when it happens. The closing bars of “Superheroes” gives way to the opening notes of The Fray’s “How to Save A Life” and Louis decides to skip the song and see what’s next on the shuffle playlist. He leans forward and taps the in-dash computer screen to advance to the next song, but instead, the radio falls silent and a computerized female voice declares, “Bluetooth disconnected,” the sound resonating throughout the vehicle cabin.

“Bloody hell,” Louis mutters, wondering how long it will take him to figure out how to reconnect his iPhone to his car’s computer. He pushes the Bluetooth icon, but nothing happens. Louis lets out a frustrated sigh and decides maybe he needs to tap the phone icon instead.

He really only takes his eyes off the road for a few seconds, but it happens in an instant.

The piercing blare of a horn startles Louis to his core and he immediately draws his eyes away from the computerized dash, redirecting them to his driver’s side window, the point of origin of the almost deafening sound. Louis registers the huge grille of an approaching semi-truck, so close that it stretches across his entire field of vision and is rapidly barreling closer. His only option is to hit the accelerator in hopes of out-gunning the approaching monster, but he doesn’t act quickly enough, doesn’t have time to really, and the two vehicles connect, Louis’ lungs punching out a stunned breath on impact.

Louis’ body is jolted harshly to the side, crashing over the center console and then snapping forward, where it ricochets against his seat belt and then slams back against his seat, an airbag exploding in front of his face. But these acts happen so fast that Louis barely even registers them.

Instead, what Louis registers is that a person’s life really does flash before his eyes when they die. But it’s more than just flashing _before his_ _eyes_ ; it’s like he is suddenly immersed in his own life experience from start to finish.

He’s encompassed by a cacophony of sound: the blaring horn of the semi-truck, the screech of tires on pavement, and the deafening crunch of metal on metal. But just as fast as these sounds overtake him, threatening to split him into a million pieces with their intensity, they fade and become muted, watery and distant, and then give way to an almost symphonic interlude that is gentle and pleasing to the ear, an orchestra emitting calming notes peppered with the soft voices of those that matter most to him.

Louis sees his mother’s face. She is impossibly young, leaning over him and cooing fondly. Just as soon as her image settles, it is replaced with that of Louis’ stepfather, running towards him and kicking a football, his face beaming and the muffled sound of him laughing, “That’s right, kick it, Lou! You’ve got it! You can do it!” ringing in Louis’ ears. His stepfather is immediately replaced by the moving image of his baby sister Lottie, who crawls towards him and holds out her pudgy arms for him to pick her up and pull her onto his lap. The images flash before him like the flickering reel of 8mm film, slightly washed-out, but nonetheless intimate, personal, and so full of life. A moving succession of the people and events that matter to Louis are presented sequentially and as they advance, they come faster, like the rapidly turning pages of a flip book, a new image unfolding before him before the previous image has faded.

Louis can do nothing but take it all in.

He sees each of his siblings: Fizzy holding out a bleeding finger for Louis to wrap in a bandage and kiss better, Daisy and Phoebe bouncing on either knee in a competitive game of “Bronco Horsey,” baby Doris crying on his shoulder, and little brother Earnest babbling happily as he sits facing Louis and pushes a ball towards him.

He sees birthday parties with colorful Christmas lights illuminating the background, family dinners where he and his siblings bicker over spoonfuls of mash and slices of pie, and he can actually smell the salt air as he watches water washing over his sandy toes during a family holiday at the shore. One instant he’s wrestling with his childhood friend Stan in the backyard, the next he’s performing in front of the entire school as Danny Zuko in _Grease_. He watches Eleanor’s face burst into an ecstatic smile as he places a prom queen crown on her head and then sees Liam running towards him on the football pitch, arms outstretched, the sound of him shouting “Winning goal, Tommo!” becoming muffled as the image fades away. He is encircled by his mother’s warmth as she hugs him on his wedding day and he relives the electric spark of his first kiss with a man.

There are other moments interspersed throughout the montage that are just as meaningful as those that bring joy, but cause tiny flickers of melancholy instead. Louis hears a door violently slam and then feels sadness emanating from his mother as she holds him in her arms. His ears momentarily ring with the taunting voice of a former classmate: a bully, who pushes him onto the ground and calls him the one name that Louis feared for most of his life. He hears the bitter voice of an ex-lover who laughs at him and mocks his pain. And he sees his former stepfather tentatively reaching out to hug him at his grandmother’s funeral.

Louis doesn’t just see these moments though, and he doesn’t simply hear them. He is absorbed completely within them, almost as if he is actually _repeating_ them, the times of joy and happiness far outweighing the brief flashes of heartache and grief.

The images, sounds and experiences that have shaped Louis into the person he is begin to fade, but the love remains, wrapping Louis in comfort and soothing him as he starts to let go. He feels weightless as the faces of his loved ones and friends dissipate into a field of color, the likes of which Louis has never seen, and the melodious background sounds flutter and fade into a few tinkling notes, reminiscent of the keys of a piano, but somehow sounding far more beautiful. Louis feels completely at peace, contented and calm. He lets out his last puff of breath and wholly gives in.

It all happens in an instant.

Louis Tomlinson’s time on Earth has come to an end.

 


	2. Intake

Louis is vaguely aware that he is moving, but he couldn’t verbally articulate such an action if he tried. He feels utterly and completely stoned. His head is swimming, not unpleasantly; he is not uncomfortable. He just feels so ridiculously loose and intoxicated that he can barely hold his head up. He can’t hold his head up, in fact. It simply drops to the side, his ear lightly brushing his shoulder before his chin falls forward and bounces against his chest.

For a brief moment, Louis’ eyes slot open and through his blurry vision he sees a flash of powder-blue patterned fabric, extending over his knees and loosely flapping in the breeze, the movement caused by the air flowing over his body as he is propelled forward. His eyes close for a long moment and then he forces them open again, and through the haze he is aware of his tattooed arms hanging limply at his sides, his hands flopping uselessly on his lap. His eyes fall heavily shut again and when this occurs, Louis registers the sound of wheels gliding across a smooth surface.

If he wasn’t in such a catatonic stupor, Louis might recognize that he is seated in a wheelchair and that he is being pushed down a long corridor, one person in the middle of a row of three: one grouping in a long line of rows of similarly situated men and women. The majority of people being pushed through the winding walkway are significantly older than Louis, senior citizens comprising at least three quarters of those being transported. But people of all ages die every single day and at age thirty, Louis is certainly not the youngest in the group. There are several men and women in their early to mid-twenties, as well as those in their thirties, forties, and fifties sprinkled amongst the many seniors aged sixty, seventy, and above. There are no children present. The oldest person being transported is one-hundred-and-two and compared to Louis, she could host her own chat show with how talkative and alert she is. She’s seated three rows in front of Louis and her voice carries, but he isn’t slightly aware of her presence, his brain too muddled and exhausted to properly observe those around him.

Louis falls asleep for a few minutes and then slowly his befuddled brain returns to foggy semi-consciousness. If he could string a coherent thought together, Louis might think he is dreaming, but the reality is that he is just starting to perceive little snippets of information and his brain, although completely jumbled, is beginning to register sounds beyond the mere turning of wheels. In particular, Louis is catching bits and pieces of a conversation that is taking place directly behind him, although for the most part, the mishmash of words makes little sense to him.

 _“Well, your boy is certainly out of it, isn’t he?”_ the first voice asks, barely above a whisper. The voice has the excitable timbre of a young woman and it sounds both pleasant and relaxed.

 _“No more than the rest of them I suppose,”_ a second voice responds. This voice is also female, although by the tone and quality it would seem that the speaker is a bit older than the first. She speaks a tad louder than the first person too, her voice rich and soothing to the ears.

 _“He’s so young. What brought him here?”_ asks Voice One.

 _“Says on his chart ‘vehicular collision – sole fatality’,”_ replies Voice Two.

_“Oh. I should have guessed. Automobiles are so dangerous. I miss the days when people got around on horses and in carriages.”_

_“Well, Meghie,”_ Voice Two replies, _“I don’t think I need to remind you that in those days most of our admissions were for Yellow Fever and Dysentery. Every era has its Achilles heal, love.”_

 _“That’s true,”_ Voice One – _Meghie_ , concedes. _He certainly is a looker though. Absolutely gorgeous.”_

Voice Two giggles softly, her voice taking on a lighter tone. _“Well, I won’t argue with you there_. _He’s stunning. Those cheekbones alone…”_ she trails off.

Just then, there is the sound of third voice, that of a male, clearing his throat. _“Beatrice, Meghie,”_ Voice Three chastises, _“must you two always gossip about the Intakes?”_

 _“Oh, lighten up, Randall,”_ Voice Two – _Beatrice_ , chastises. _“I know that you of all people appreciate a pretty face. Besides, look at the poor thing. He can barely hold his head up. I’d be surprised if his little brain understood a word of what we’re saying.”_

Voice Three – _Randall_ , huffs dramatically and then lets out a small chuckle. _“Well then,”_ he says, his voice excited and just above a whisper, _“if we’re going to talk about beautiful Intakes, you should have seen the one I had this morning. Gave new meaning to the term ‘drop dead gorgeous’ that’s for sure.”_

 _“Details,”_ Meghie presses, enthusiastically.

 _“Yes. Go on, then!”_ Beatrice adds.

Randall proceeds: _“Well, even with him being seated and slumped over and all that, I could tell he was quite tall and very fit. Very fit…”_ Randall clears his throat and continues. _“He had long, chocolate brown hair, kind of swooped over to the side and it fell in these adorable little ringlets just over his shoulders. And my god, he had a jaw-line for days. Oh! And the most perfect pink mouth I think I have ever seen.”_ Randall sighs wistfully. _“When we arrived at the trams he opened his eyes for barely a second and I almost died again at how brilliant and green they were. Like emeralds: beautiful, perfect emeralds. He was simply lovely. Cherubic even. Just… Lovely.”_ Randall pauses and then adds, _“Oh! I almost forgot the best part! He was being transported to The Ambassador. He obviously did something right during his time on earth.”_

 _“Ah… The Ambassador,”_ Beatrice responds. _“That’s top of the line all the way.”_

 _“Poor thing,”_ Randall continues, _“he literally had to be carried onto the tram. I couldn’t wake him to save a life. He was completely out of it.”_ He then lowers his voice to barely above a whisper and says sympathetically, _“Coma baby.”_

 _“Ohhhhhh!”_ Beatrice and Meghie coo simultaneously.

 _“Bless his heart,”_ Meghie sighs.

 _“The poor darling,”_ Beatrice adds. _“They always have it so rough on arrival.”_

 _“They do,”_ Randall concurs. _“But he’ll feel more like himself after a good rest. They always feel better after sleeping it off. And I don’t imagine his Review will be too stressful, considering his accommodations.”_

 _“Speaking of accommodations,”_ Meghie pipes in, _“where is Mr. Cheekbones staying, Beatrice?”_

There is the sound of the shuffling of papers and then Beatrice responds.

 _“Hmmm… Very nice,”_ she answers. _“Says on his Intake form that Mr. Cheekbones… Um, Mr. Tomlinson - actually, is staying at The Regency.”_

 _“Hmmm, The Regency,”_ Randall replies thoughtfully. _“Those are excellent accommodations. Not quite The Ambassador, but top-notch nonetheless. You fine ladies know what they call The Regency down at the Review Center, don’t you?”_

 _“Of course. The 50/50 House.”_ Beatrice replies.

 _“The 50/50 House?”_ Meghie repeats. _“I don’t ever recall hearing that nickname before. To be fair though, most of my Intakes stay at The Continental or Knight’s Arms.”_

 _“Well, you do understand that the majority of the guests staying at The Regency are right on the cusp, don’t you?”_ Randall asks.

 _“Yes, I get it,”_ Meghie replies. _“Just never heard The Regency described that way before, is all.”_

 _“Any guest can move forward, Randall,”_ Beatrice chastises. _“And any guest can be sent back, regardless of their accommodations. One’s lodgings are merely a formality. And all of our facilities are lovely and quite comfortable, so it’s really not fair to classify the Intakes in accordance to where they reside during their stays.”_

 _“Agreed,”_ Randall responds. _“But you do have to admit, there is a bit of a hierarchy. Especially in regards to The Ambassador.”_

 _“He’s got you there, Beatrice,”_ Meghie giggles.

 

********

 

“Mr. Tomlinson. We’ve arrived at the trams. I need you to wake up for me, love.”

Louis is aware that he has stopped moving. He feels fresh air on his face and takes in the sweet smell of cut grass and fragrant flowers. His eyes flutter briefly and he notes that someone is gently patting his shoulder and attempting to rouse him, but he has no interest in acknowledging them, far too comfortable to be bothered.

He feels a warm hand rub his forearm soothingly and hears the sound of a female voice, one that he is certain he has heard before, maybe in a dream.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” the voice continues. “My name is Beatrice. I’m here to assist you. Do you think you can stand up for me?”

Louis lifts his head slightly and opens his eyes again, squinting, but manages to keep them open for a few seconds as he tries to focus. They once again fall heavily shut as he lets out a garbled, “Mmpff,” in response.

“Oh, you are still out of it, aren’t you, dear?” Beatrice asks. “I know you’re tired and you’ve had quite a journey, but it will be most helpful if you could stand up. I know you can do it. I believe in you, Mr. Tomlinson!” she encourages.

Louis peeks his eyes open again if only to see just whom this sweet, yet decidedly annoying person is that keeps disturbing his slumber. His vision is quite blurry and at first all he can make out is pale skin and a crown of red hair. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, attempting to speak and then lets out a deep breath, blinking his eyes slowly.

“There you are! Coming to is always so difficult. It’s a process really. And I know you’re simply exhausted, but if you could just focus for a few minutes we’ll get you on your tram and you can head to your accommodations.”

Louis opens his eyes wide and then relaxes them, this time his vision is a bit clearer. Beatrice is quite lovely, really. She looks to be in her early-forties. She has porcelain skin and bright red lips turned up into a soft smile. Her long red hair falls in a cascade over her shoulders. She is wearing a pale green, long sleeve jersey shirt and matching drawstring trousers that strongly resemble surgical scrubs.

It takes all of Louis’ efforts to blurt out a single, barely intelligible word and when he does, Beatrice smiles at him proudly. “Where?” he mumbles.

“Good for you!” she laughs. “Your first coherent word and you haven’t even had a proper rest yet!” She continues, “You don’t need to worry about the _where_ right now, Mr. Tomlinson. For now, let’s just get you standing and onto the tram. Everything will be explained to you in due time. I promise.”

She stands in front of Louis, leaning over slightly and sliding one arm behind his back, extending her other arm in front of him and encouraging him to latch on.

Slowly, Louis places his left hand on her forearm and slides his right around Beatrice’s hip. If he could properly speak, Louis would tell her that he’s worried he is too heavy and that she may strain her back attempting to lift him.

Beatrice seems to know what Louis is thinking though.

“Don’t worry about me, Mr. Tomlinson,” she says. “I’ve lifted far heavier men than you.” With that, she easily pulls Louis upwards, wrapping both arms around him to steady him as he sways on his feet. He looks down and notices that he is wearing slippers, but his mind immediately blanks on what purpose they serve. Beatrice gives him a minute to find his center of gravity and then gently eases him forward, the two of them taking slow, careful steps.

Louis looks up then and attempts to survey his surroundings. He’s appears to be at a bus station of sorts: a very fancy bus station where vibrant roses, hyacinths, and lilies border a long, semicircular drive. Parked along the drive are what must be the trams Beatrice keeps referencing, but really they look similar to the open-air trolley cars Louis rode on during his last trip to San Francisco. Or was it Chicago? His mind is a blur and he really can’t remember. The trams are lined up in accordance to color and are parked side by side in rows, the first row comprised of a single blue tram, while the second row features two green trams. The final two rows have four trams each and are colored red and yellow, respectively. Beatrice leads Louis to a green tram, _The Regency_ painted in elegant script across its side.

“I’m going to need you to step up into the tram, Mr. Tomlinson,” Beatrice says. Louis lifts his right foot in response, stepping onto the tram’s lower platform. He smiles drunkenly, feeling quite proud of himself for achieving such a major accomplishment.

“Well done, Mr. Tomlinson!” Beatrice laughs. “Just one more step and I’ll help you to your seat.” Louis takes the second step and is ushered to the back of the tram, where Beatrice helps him sit down on a comfortable, two-person bench seat. Louis leans against the backrest and Beatrice helps buckle his seatbelt. He still feels drained and utterly confused, but he feels far more conscious than he did when he was being wheeled out to the tram station, so that’s a good thing he supposes.

“This is where I leave you, Mr. Tomlinson,” says Beatrice, offering a kind smile. “It’s been my pleasure to assist you today.”

Louis opens his mouth to thank her, but no words come out.

“You’re very welcome, sir,” she offers, patting his hand gently. “Good luck with everything and enjoy your stay here in Judgment City.”

Beatrice exits the tram as more attendants and semi-conscious men and women dressed in hospital gowns like the one Louis is wearing are assisted on, the arriving passengers helped into seats throughout the tram’s large cabin.

When the tram is filled to capacity an elderly gentleman in a crisp green uniform climbs on board and sits behind an oversized steering wheel. A second seat is positioned not far from the driver’s seat and faces away from the front windshield, towards the seated passengers. A beautiful, olive skinned woman climbs up into the tram and takes the open seat. She is wearing a flowing green pantsuit and pretty floral blouse, a matching headscarf in the same floral fabric carefully wrapped over her head. She leans over and picks up a microphone mounted beside her seat and flips on an intercom system, blowing into the mic to test its sound and causing a bit of reverb to screech through the tram’s speaker system in return. Some of the passengers on the tram groan, irritated by the acoustic intrusion.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” the woman speaks into the microphone, her friendly voice resonating throughout tram’s passenger cabin. “My name is Ahi and it’s my pleasure to welcome you all to Judgment City.”

 _Judgment City._ This is the second time Louis has heard this name and he’s not sure what to make of it, but he is far too tired to think too deeply on the subject.

“Here at Judgment City, UK Chapter, we service all of the United Kingdom’s dead, including Great Britain and the whole of Ireland. I know all of you have had a long journey and I suspect that most of you are rather exhausted, so I want to assure you that we’ll be arriving at your accommodations shortly and once you’re settled in you’ll be able to sleep for as long as you like. But for now, I encourage you to take in your surroundings while I explain a few very basic things about our fair city and your stay here with us.”

Louis does as told and begins to survey the passing landscape. The tram is traveling at a comfortable speed along a wide, blacktop roadway, on the left of which is a seemingly endless stretch of lush green rolling hills and deep valleys, peppered with charming cottages and a patchwork of small crops. To the right of the roadway there is a gently sloping drop-off, not quite a cliff, but certainly larger than a hill, that leads to a pretty, pebble-covered beach, small waves lapping gently on its shore. Straight ahead, Louis can see what must be Judgment City itself: a sizable city comprised of an eclectic collection of architecture ranging from ancient stone structures and Georgian facades, to simple brick buildings and sleek modern sky-rises. Louis can’t quite place a finger on what he is thinking actually, but it all seems so –

“Looks familiar, doesn’t it?” Ahi continues, interrupting Louis’ train of thought as though she’s read his mind. “We’ve planned Judgment City so that it’s as close to earth as possible. We want you to feel completely comfortable during your stay with us. Our city is ever expanding and we’re constantly refurbishing existing structures, but we’re always looking for ways to improve ourselves and help our guests feel more at home. You’ll find suggestion boxes throughout the city and if you have any thoughts on how to improve anything, from the food and accommodations to the entertainment and architecture, we’d simply love to hear from you.”

Louis is trying to take in what Ahi is saying, but he is starting to feel extremely exhausted again, his momentary venture into consciousness having completely overwhelmed him. He blinks slowly, attempting to pay attention but not fully listening as Ahi continues her speech.

“Does anyone here like to golf?” Ahi asks, the passengers of the tram staring at her blankly in response. Ahi continues happily, “You won’t be quite able to raise your hands just yet, but I think I spot more than a few golf enthusiasts amongst you and I’m happy to share that Judgment City boasts fifteen championship golf courses.”

Louis furrows his brow, quite certain that he hates golf. Ahi talks on.

“In addition to golf, some of our other popular activities include tennis, horseback riding, rock climbing, hiking, and swimming. For those of you who enjoy football, we have what I think are the nicest pitches of any Judgment City over Europe. They’re simply spectacular and intramural games are played throughout the day, so you can join in at any time.”

Louis feels a jolt of recognition zip through his body and sees a flash of his cleat-clad right foot kicking a football high into the air, his left foot following suit and lifting his body completely off the ground as the ball sails across the pitch. He is sleep-starved and confused, but suddenly interested in what Ahi is saying. He feels quite certain that he loves football.

“Of course, not everyone is a fan of sport, so we also have twenty-two full-service spas where you can be pampered to your heart’s content during your leisure time. While you _will_ have scheduled activities during your stay with us, we want you to fully enjoy your free time doing the things you liked to do best on earth. We also encourage you to try some things you may not have had a chance to enjoy before your arrival, whether it’s a pottery class or tai chi.”

With talk of football officially concluded, Louis again begins to lose interest and his eyelids droop heavily. Ahi continues, happily talking into her microphone as the passengers look on stupidly. Louis dozes off for a few minutes and then once again awakens into confused consciousness.

“…But by far, the thing our guests seem to enjoy most during their stays is our wonderful food. Judgment City boasts literally hundreds of restaurants serving any type of food you can imagine and I can honestly say that during all of my time working with the Tours Department, I have yet to read a single complaint about any of them. The food here is simply divine. Best of all, you can eat all you like and you’ll never gain weight!”

The tram has entered the city now, the paved blacktop giving way to concrete city streets and brick avenues. The tram slows and turns left onto a charming, two-way boulevard, the center of which is divided by a shallow creek, over which a quaint wooden bridge is suspended, joining the two sides of the boulevard together. A cobblestone footpath runs the length of either side of the boulevard and poplar, willow, and service trees add charm to the scenery. The buildings on the street range from small brick tri-levels to larger structures ten stories tall. Four, massive buildings, each featuring a distinct architectural style and appearing to have twenty floors or more are interspersed amongst the other buildings, two on either side of the boulevard. The tram Louis is riding in pulls into the second such building, this building featuring a refined brick facade, a green canopy emblazoned with the name _The Regency_ , hanging over its entranceway.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at The Regency, your residence for the duration of your stay with us. Momentarily, personal attendants will join us on the tram to help assist you inside and you’ll be directed to your rooms. It has truly been my pleasure to serve as your guide today. Please enjoy your time here with us, and once again, welcome to Judgment City.”

Almost immediately, a number of men and women board the tram and make their way down the center aisle so that a single attendant is positioned at each row. Each attendant wears a black, fitted buttoned blazer and matching trousers, a crisp white dress shirt and green and black striped necktie, with a polished brass nameplate pinned to their breast pocket.

The attendant who assists Louis and the other passengers seated in his row is a tall and rather lanky young man, who introduces himself as Donald. Donald has soft blonde hair carefully parted to the side and held in place with a tad too much styling gel, a bit of scruff growing on his chin. His demeanor is professional and courteous as he rattles off the names of the passengers in Louis’ row of seats, making sure that everyone is accounted for and then helping them out of their seatbelts and into the standing position. An older woman in Louis’ row can’t quite walk on her own and so Donald offers his elbow, Louis and the remaining two passengers in his row following them slowly off the bus and into The Regency.

For all practical purposes, The Regency looks like many of the high-end hotels Louis has stayed in during his business travels. The lobby is spacious and bright, the marble floor a white and black checkered pattern, the walls featuring a rich mahogany wainscoting, their upper halves painted a creamy white. Adorning the walls is a series of landscape paintings of the English countryside, the rolling hills of Ireland, and the White Cliffs of Dover. Throughout the lobby are a dozen or so seating areas, each featuring overstuffed leather couches, walnut coffee tables, and straight-back upholstered chairs, each seating arrangement resting atop a beautiful patterned green rug. Flesh floral arrangements in sleek glass decanters of all shapes and sizes are scattered throughout the lobby, with the theme of these flower displays decidedly green and white. Overall, the space is elegant, yet relaxed and as Louis is led to stand with the others from the tram near the lobby’s main reception area he realizes that he feels quite comfortable here, although his exhaustion is starting to overtake him and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stand upright.

A rather dashing-looking older gentleman with wavy salt and pepper hair and bright blue eyes comes to stand in front of Louis’ group and gestures his arms outwards in a sign of welcome. He is dressed similarly to the attendants who helped the passengers off the tram, except his suit is a three-piece and instead of a standard necktie, he wears a silken green and black cravat and matching pocket square. The attendants who assisted the passengers off the tram line up behind him and smile warmly at the guests.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. My name is George Barlow and it is my pleasure to welcome you all to The Regency, Judgment City’s premiere accommodations. I’m The Regency’s general manager and it is my sole purpose to ensure that each and every one of you has an enjoyable stay at our fine establishment. I know you’re all exhausted, so you’ve already been checked in and will be taken straight away to your rooms. I’m sure you recognize the faces behind me,” George says, gesturing to the row of attendants, “these fine young men and women are your personal concierges and they’ll be here to assist you in all your needs during your stay. We provide twenty-four hours’ service, so please feel free to call on them day or night. Now then! Let’s get you all settled in your rooms so that you can enjoy some well-earned rest.”

George steps aside and the attendants – personal concierges – rather, begin to coral their charges. Donald approaches and Louis is grouped in with the three people from his row on the tram. Donald politely introduces them to each other by name, although none of them seem to really register a thing he is saying. He leads the group to the nearest lift and hits the button marked _12_ once they are all safely inside. During the ride to their floor, Donald makes idol chitchat about the amenities of the hotel, extolling the excellent room service cuisine, the five-star gymnasium, and the indoor/outdoor heated swimming pool, among its many attributes.

The lift chimes on the twelfth floor and Donald ushers the small group off and down a long, carpeted hallway. Margaret, the woman from the tram who was having difficulty walking earlier, again needs assistance and this time Donald has to wrap his arm around her waist and practically drags her to her hotel room, Louis and the others staggering several meters behind. They wait outside Margaret’s door as Donald goes over a few things with her and he then returns to the hallway, repeating the process with the remaining members of Louis’ group. Louis is last to be escorted to a room.

“Here we are Mr. Tomlinson, Room 1215,” Donald says, unlocking the door with a bright green key card. “You’ve got quite a lovely view of Judgment City.” Before he lets Louis inside he points out a small square panel, directly beside the key card slot. “From here on out, you can unlock your door simply by placing your thumb on this panel. Would you like to try it out?” he asks. Louis looks at him and blinks, raising his hand to the door and then dropping it loosely to his side. “That’s quite alright, Mr. Tomlinson,” Donald says with a smile. “You’ll find that your fine motor skills will have returned once you’ve had a good night’s rest.”

Donald opens the door and carefully ushers Louis inside. Almost immediately upon entering the space and seeing the King size bed, Louis is struck with fatigue so overwhelming he can hardly stand. He’s vaguely aware that the room is quite nice, but really, the only thing he can focus on is: _Bed. Bed. Bed._

Donald leads Louis to a large cupboard and opens its doors, revealing a number of cream-colored gowns, hung side by side on wooden hangers. “These, sir, are called _tupas_ , and they are the clothing you’ll be wearing during your stay in Judgment City. They’re rather similar to a caftan or a tunic and I can assure you, they’re quite comfortable.” Donald then turns around and opens a chest of drawers. “In the drawers you’ll find boxer-briefs, selected specifically for you in your size and preferred fit, as well as bedclothes. Our guests especially love the bedclothes, they really are the most comfortable pajama bottoms and tops you’ve ever worn in your entire life.”

There is an awkward pause when Donald realizes what he has just said, but Louis somehow manages to mumble, “Or death,” and Donald bursts out laughing.

“Very good, sir!” He exclaims, “You’ve made a little joke and you haven’t even had a decent night’s rest. I’d be curious to know how much of your brain you use. Most guests are unable to utter a single word until after they’ve had their first night’s sleep.”

Louis’ doesn’t have a clue as to what Donald is talking about, but at the mention of sleep, he instantly turns and faces the bed.

“Very well, sir. I’ll leave you to your rest. Sleep as long as you like and please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. Just pick up your bedside phone and you’ll be connected to the front desk.”

Louis turns again to face Donald and reaches to his hip, running his hand along his upper thigh as if trying to slide his fingers into an imaginary pocket.

Donald smiles gently. “That’s quite alright, sir. There is no tipping in Judgment City. In fact, we don’t exchange capital in Judgment City at all. Besides, I’d be quite shocked if you had anything on you besides what you’re currently wearing.”  
           

Louis nods his head as if he understands what Donald is saying, but really, he has one thought on his mind: _Bed. Bed. Bed._

Donald bids his final “good night” and leaves Louis’ room, quietly shutting the door behind him. Louis stumbles towards his bed and flops across its surface, landing on the cushiony duvet and not even bothering to pull the cover back. He reaches for a pillow and pulls it beneath his head, letting out a satisfied sigh. He curls into a tight ball on his side and immediately falls into a deep sleep. Louis Tomlinson has had a very eventful day.


	3. Defending Your Life

The first time Louis wakes up it’s thanks to a beam of morning sunlight shining in through his wall-to-wall window and splaying straight across his face. Louis rolls over, turning away from the light and avoiding it temporarily, but it’s simply too intense, his room is too bright and he realizes that he is going to need to take more aggressive measures if he plans on falling back asleep. So he does the next thing which comes to mind and that’s to grab a pillow from the top of the bed and pull it over his head, covering his face completely. But the sunlight is warm and the pillow is rather suffocating, so he lets out an irritated huff and pulls it off his face, glancing over to the digital clock resting on the bedside table. It reads 5:46 AM. “Good God,” Louis mutters, “it’s practically still nighttime.” He climbs out of bed in order to shut out the blinding intrusion.

Louis’ first steps are a bit awkward; his muscles are stiff and his legs weak. He walks past the small sitting area, nearly tripping over an ottoman that is positioned at an angle in front of an overstuffed chair. He manages to right himself before he falls over completely, but stubs his toe on the coffee table in the process, letting out a soft, “Bloody hell!” in response. He hops over to the window wall, bent over and rubbing his sore toe with one hand as he makes his way, intent on pulling the thick, blackout curtains that frame either side of the window closed so that he can return to his slumber, when suddenly he is struck by what he sees on the other side of the glass and he freezes in his tracks.

It’s absolutely breathtaking.

Louis can see for miles, the city spread out before him and bathed in morning light, the colors of which Louis has never experienced before. From his window on the 12th floor, Louis can see as far as the beach that he passed on the way into the city, the distinction between the blue water and purple horizon barely distinguishable. As his eyes pan down the coast and back toward the city, Louis notices that the purple gives way to brilliant hues of red, orange and yellow that stretch over the undulating hilltops in the distance and bathe the city buildings and streets in otherworldly dimensions of color. The view culminates in the sun itself, which has risen just above the skyline, the bottom ellipse hidden beneath the tallest building in the city: a modern structure boasting a mirrored surface that reflects all the other buildings in the vicinity, as well as the colorful sky.

“Holy shit,” Louis mutters to himself. “I’m dead.”

The realization hits him like a truck – not unlike the truck that put him in this very hotel room in the first place. He is suddenly overwhelmed with memories: his ride with Liam to the car dealership, climbing behind the wheel of his new BMW, and the sound of metal crunching beneath his body as he let go of his life on Earth. He feels utterly awestruck and for a brief moment, a wave of sadness washes over him. But mostly, he feels so very tired, hit with exhaustion so intense that he decides that the best route to take is to go back to bed and deal with this death thing later. So he grabs the elegant metal rod that extends from the window drapery and pulls. The heavy curtain slides along a track that runs the length of the ceiling along the top of the window frame and stops in the middle of the window, the room suddenly significantly darker. Louis walks over to the opposite end of the window and repeats the process, pulling the second curtain towards the first until the two meet in the middle, the light shut out completely, the room now in near total darkness. He carefully feels his way back to his bed, guided only by the soft glow of the digital clock that sits on his bedside table, when another thought springs to his mind.

“Wee,” Louis says aloud, bypassing his bed completely and making his way to the en-suite. He flips on the bathroom light and immediately winces, shutting his eyes. He blinks them open again and squints, looking at his reflection in the large mirror that hangs over the marble sink. Louis tilts his head from side to side and nods in silent recognition, taking in his own reflection. He doesn’t look half-bad considering he was literally run over by a semi-truck the day before. In fact, Louis doesn’t think he’s ever looked better in his life. “Or death,” he says, snorting ruefully.

He peers into the mirror. His eyes are clear and the blue of his irises stand out against his lightly tanned skin. His fringe is soft and swept to the side. His cheekbones jut out sexily, just enough to accentuate his pretty, sharp features, but not so much that he looks overly thin. His lips are red and dewy.

“Not too shabby,” he mumbles to himself.

He looks so good in fact, that if Louis wasn’t so tired he might stare at himself in the mirror for a while, fool around with his fringe, or even try-out some different selfie poses. But those actions are more akin to a life on Earth and really, all Louis wants to do is have a piss and go back to sleep. So that’s exactly what he does.

After emptying his bladder for what seems like an eternity, Louis washes his hands and returns to his bed. This time, when he approaches the bed Louis actually pulls back the duvet and top sheet before settling in. He then strips off the gown he’s been wearing since his arrival to whatever this place is, and tosses it to the floor, sliding between the sheets as naked as the day he was born. The bedding feels silky soft and utterly incredible against his skin and he makes a mental note to ask that nice concierge… _Donald, his name is Donald_ , the thread count of his sheets. He leans back against his pillow, which he realizes is literally comparable to resting his head on a cloud, and it is only a few seconds before Louis passes out and once again falls into a deep, dreamless slumber.

He sleeps for five more hours.

When he awakens the second time, Louis feels completely rested and more like his old self. His body feels strong, all tension in his muscles having dissipated. He’s alert too. Gone is the confusion that had clouded his brain the day before, replaced by a sense of clarity as to _who_ he is and _where_ he is. He remembers what happened, remembers that he died in a terrible car accident and that he is now in some Afterlife resort-slash-purgatory. But he also feels a sense of calm and comfort when it comes to his family and friends still on Earth; he knows that the people that mattered to him in his life are going to make it through the pain of losing him and he knows that their lives will go on without him. He doesn’t understand why he doesn’t feel sad, but he has a vague understanding that a day will come when he will mourn his loss of _them_ , just as surely as they are mourning him now. He also knows in his heart that everything is going to be okay and this knowledge provides an unbelievable sense of peace.

“I will see them again,” he says aloud, confident that his words are true. It’s all very strange and rather beautiful. Never in a million years could Louis have imagined death would be like this.

He rubs his eyes and stretches his arms, deciding that he could probably use a shower. But first, Louis walks carefully over to the window wall and draws back the curtains, letting light fill his room and taking it all in.

Donald was right, Louis’ room indeed boasts stunning views of Judgment City and he thinks to himself that he is excited to see the view at night. He looks around his hotel room and realizes that he has quite a nice set up. To the right of the window wall is the sitting area where Louis nearly took out a toe earlier in the morning. Running along one wall is an upholstered couch, covered in a soft grey fabric material and adorned with brightly colored pillows. Angled next to the couch is an overstuffed chair featuring an abstract floral pattern that compliments the couch and in front of that sits the ottoman Louis tripped over a few hours earlier. A coffee table is situated in front of the couch and is covered in magazines, a city guide and large round vase of fresh flowers. A huge, flat-screen television is mounted to the wall opposite the couch, and beneath sits a long console table on which a hotel directory and another small vase of flowers rests. Beside the television is a built-in desk and chair, along with a mini-fridge and the chest of drawers Donald showed him the night before. Louis’ bed is on the same wall as the couch and opposite the bureau. To the right of Louis’ bed is the en-suite and a large clothes cupboard is built into the wall to the right of the bathroom, in the hallway that leads to the room’s entrance. All in all, Louis’ accommodations are quite contemporary and comfortable, comparable to any high-end hotel Louis stayed in on Earth.

Louis wonders for a minute if this is where he will spend eternity and he decides that if this is the case, he could do a lot worse. He grabs the remote control off the nightstand and clicks on the television. Immediately, the screen comes to life and Louis flips through a few channels, landing on what must be the hotel channel. A commercial about the hotel’s in-house spa is just ending and another extolling Judgment City’s championship golf courses starts. Louis watches for a minute as a group of silver-haired, tupa-clad men hop off a golf cart and happily reach for their clubs before rolling his eyes and shutting off the telly.

“Definitely hate golf,” he mutters to himself.

He hops out of bed and is headed toward the en-suite and a hot morning shower when he notices that a cream-colored envelope has been slid underneath his door and is resting on the floor in his hallway. He walks over and retrieves the envelope, opening it and pulling out a stiff piece of cardstock, on which a message is carefully written in cursive:

 

_Good Morning, Mr. Tomlinson!_

_I hope you’ve enjoyed a peaceful night’s sleep and are now ready to greet the day!_

_Please call the front desk after you’ve showered and I’ll schedule your meeting with your advocate. As long as you are showered by 1 PM, we should be able to get you in to see him today._

_Also, our kitchen is top of the line, so if you’re hungry or simply would like a morning cup of tea, please feel free to call room service and we’ll get your order to you straight away._

_Best,_

_Donald_

Louis could really use a cuppa, so he rings the front desk and asks for room service. He places an order for a pot of tea and some toast and then heads to the en-suite and awaiting shower.

His en-suite features gray slate flooring and matching tiled walls. A large, glass shower stall with a built-in tiled bench seat is positioned to the right of the toilet and a series of sleek metal shelves are loaded with fluffy white towels and flannels. There is no bathtub, but Louis vaguely remembers Donald telling him about The Regency’s swimming pool and hot tub, so he supposes if he really wants a soak he can have one there.

He turns on the shower and tests the temperature before climbing in. The water pressure is absolutely perfect and he lets the pulsating stream wash over his shoulders and back for several minutes before even reaching for the toiletries that are lined up in a neat row on a built-in shelf, the shower stall filling with steam. The toiletries are packaged in clear plastic containers imprinted with _The Regency_ logo and bearing the name of the product contained within. There is also a bar of textured soap and Louis picks it up, taking a whiff. It smells like a delicious mixture of vanilla and honey and Louis lathers it over his entire body, his cock twitching expectantly as he passes the bar over his groin. He considers pulling one off, but decides against it. “Best to get through day one of being dead before you start that up,” he mumbles to himself.

He picks up a small bottle labeled _Cucumber Face Wash_ and gives his face a thorough wash and then stands under the pounding stream of water to rinse his face and body. After washing and conditioning his hair with products that smell so much like fresh coconut and lime that he has to actually restrain himself from trying a taste, Louis turns off the shower and begins to towel off, foregoing the plush bathrobe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and wrapping a towel around his waist instead.

The en-suite is certainly well stocked with every grooming product Louis can imagine and he looks through them all curiously, uncapping the many bottles and jars, dipping his finger in and smelling their contents. On the marble countertop next to the sink basin is a packaged toothbrush and toothpaste, as well as a canister of shaving cream and an expensive-looking stainless steel razor. Louis wipes the fog from the bathroom mirror and looks at his reflection, deciding he likes the bit of scruff that is sprinkled along his jaw-line and chin and so he chooses to skip shaving for the day.

There are small, built-in shelves to the side of the sink that are filled with bottles of styling gel, mousse and hairspray, brushes and combs, moisturizers and body lotions, and extra toothbrushes, and there are two different kinds of deodorant. Louis would have never thought that personal grooming would be such an important aspect of life after death, but he also never thought his death would involve a hotel stay of any kind, so all he can do is take it in stride. He has just run a dab of pomade through his hair and has begun styling a soft fringe when he hears a knock on his door. He quickly dons the complimentary bathrobe, literally gasping at how soft it feels against his skin, and then ties the fabric belt before answering the door.

As soon as he opens it he is greeted by Donald, who wheels in a cloth-covered cart, on top of which is a pot of tea and several lidded plates.

“Good Morning, Mr. Tomlinson!” Donald greets him. “I hope you’ve had a good rest, sir.

“I did,” Louis answers, nodding his head. He can’t help but ask, “Donald, do you work for room service too? And why are there so many dishes? All I ordered was tea and toast.”

Donald smiles. “I took the liberty of bringing you a proper breakfast, sir. I brought it up myself so I could explain to you in person your schedule for the day. I was able to arrange your advocate meeting for half-noon and I don’t think you’ll have enough time to stop at one of our restaurants to eat. You had quite a busy day yesterday and given how long you slept, I’m sure you must be quite hungry.”

Louis realizes that he is in fact _very_ hungry. Much hungrier than what would be satisfied by a slice of toast. He points to the seating area. “Um. Do you mind?”

“No sir! Not at all.” Donald wheels the cart to the coffee table and begins transferring the items to the tabletop, Louis offering help and then taking his seat on the couch. He pours a splash of milk into a teacup and then fills it to the brim with tea. It’s absolutely steaming, but smells so divine Louis has to take a sip. He is not disappointed.

“Bloody hell!” He exclaims. “This is really, really good tea.” He takes another sip and then quickly drains his cup.

“We aim to please, sir,” Donald replies proudly. Louis motions for him to sit down and Donald pulls over the desk chair and positions it in front of the coffee table so that he is directly facing Louis as he takes his seat.

“Look,” Louis replies, “It seems like you and I are going to be spending some time together, yeah?”

“Yes, sir. We are.”

“Well then, how about we cut the formalities, okay, mate? My name is Louis. I want you to call me Louis. No more of this _sir_ and _Mr. Tomlinson_ business. Does that sound all right?

Donald’s smiles and nods his head. “Of course, sir… Err, _Louis_ ,” he corrects. He clears his throat. “So then, _Louis_ , shall I tell you about your schedule for the day?”

“Of course,” Louis answers, lifting the lid off one of the covered plates and revealing a fluffy omelet overstuffed with cheese and cubes of ham. “Well look what we have here,” he says happily. He lifts the lid off another plate and finds several slices of crisp bacon, a third revealing thick pieces of buttered toast. It all looks and smells so delicious Louis doesn’t know where to start, but he grabs a fork and goes for the eggs, sighing in ecstasy as he takes his first bite, the combination of creamy sweet and salty flavors dancing on his palate. “Oh Donald,” he mumbles as he shoves a piece of bacon into his mouth. “Well done. Well done.”            

“I’m happy you enjoy it, s-Louis,” Donald answers. “I think Judgment City UK has some of the best food above Europe. You can eat all you like, you know. You’ll never gain weight.”

Louis vaguely remembers hearing this bit of information before but he shrugs it off as he bites into a piece of buttered toast that melts on his tongue. “Well, thank God or whomever is responsible for that, I suppose. I never thought of myself as much of a foodie, but I could really get used to eating like this.” He bites into another huge mouthful of omelet and closes his eyes in bliss. “So delicious. Brilliant, really.”

Donald nods his head and then changes the subject. “So Louis, today you will be meeting your advocate. His name is Marcus Diamond. He’s really tops in his field and quite excited to work with you. I think you’ll like him very much. As I’ve already told you, he’ll see you at half-noon and will better explain to you why you are here, but what I can tell you is that you’ll be working with him for the duration of your stay.”

Louis washes down another piece of bacon with a swig of orange juice. “That’s really good juice,” he can’t help but tell Donald, pointing at the glass. “So fresh.” Donald smiles in acknowledgement. “So, I’m meeting with an advocate. What is that exactly?”

“Well,” Donald begins, “an advocate is an attorney of sorts. Mr. Diamond will be representing you during your Review. It’s his job to prove that you’re ready to move forward in the universe. But really, I should let him explain all of the details to you. You and he have lunch scheduled after your meeting and then you’ll have the rest of the day free to explore the city and do as you like. Of course, I’m here to help you arrange any activities you might enjoy participating in, schedule your transportation, and offer any other assistance you may need.”

“If I need an attorney, am I on trial?” Louis asks, suddenly nervous.

“No! Of course not!” Donald reassures him. “Every person on Earth who dies goes through a Review. Please don’t worry about the process. It’s quite routine and Mr. Diamond will fill you in on all of the details.”

Louis furrows his brows and lets out a long breath. He supposes there is no point in getting upset about something he knows nothing about, so he decides to pour himself another cup of tea and reaches for what has to be his fifth slice of bacon. “Donald, you mentioned that I was asleep for a long time. What time did I get here exactly?”

“I dropped you off at your room at half-three in the afternoon, sir. Sorry... _Louis_ ,” Donald corrects.

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up. “I slept for nearly twenty hours?” He asks, his voice practically a shout.

“I can assure you, Louis, that’s perfectly normal. Some guests sleep for as long as three days. Every person is unique and some require more rest than others. Nineteen hours is really not that long. Especially considering all that you went through.” Donald runs his hands up and down his thighs and stands. “I’ll leave you to finish your breakfast. There will be a tram out front to transport you to Mr. Diamond’s office at 12 PM sharp. Do you remember the tupas I showed you yesterday?”

Louis nods his head yes, his mouth full of tea and toast.

Donald smiles. “I think you’ll find them quite comfortable. Okay, then. Should you need to get a hold of me for any reason while you are out, simply pick up one of the service telephones you’ll find throughout the city and dial 2 and you’ll be connected directly to The Regency.”

Louis stands briefly, Donald shaking his hand before he leaves. Louis finishes his breakfast, contemplating if he should order another plate when he catches a glimpse of his clock and sees that he only has twenty minutes until he needs to be in the lobby to catch his tram.

He quickly brushes his teeth, marveling at how minty and delicious the toothpaste tastes, and then runs his fingers through his now-dry fringe, his hair swooping softly to the side. He pulls a pair of pants similar to the boxer briefs he wore on Earth from his chest of drawers and steps into them, relishing the comfortable fit. The cupboard doors are mirrored and Louis turns to his side and peers at his reflection.

“Thank God my arse wasn’t damaged in the accident,” he chuckles to himself as he surveys his round bum. “Okay, let’s try on this tupa-thing, then.”

He pulls one of the cream-colored gowns off a hanger and slides it over his head, pushing his arms through the long sleeves, the length of the garment extending to just below his ankles. The garment has a wide boat-neck that shows off Louis’ collarbones and just the slightest peak  of the tattoo that is curved across the top of his chest, the collar accentuated with a shiny cream trim, culminating in a small, V-shaped slit that runs vertically a few centimeters down Louis’ chest. The sleeves extend all the way to Louis wrists and the shoulders are slightly ruched. The material has the weight of velvet or velour, but feels light and soft against his skin like silky cotton. A wide fabric belt made of a shiny, elasticized silk material hangs off the rung of the hanger and Louis removes it, wrapping it around his waist just above his hips and securing it via self-affixing fasteners that are hidden beneath the fabric. Louis looks down at his bare feet and then back into the cupboard where he notices several pairs of cream color shoes, not unlike the slip-on Vans he practically lived in on Earth, are lined up in a row. He grabs a pair and steps into them. They fit him perfectly.

Louis takes a step back and looks in the mirror. He can’t decide if he looks good in the tupa or if he looks like he’s a nightgown-wearing member of some deranged religious cult. He does a slow turn to check himself out completely and decides that he doesn’t look half bad. The tupa is actually kind of flattering to his shape and build, and does a nice job of showing off his sharp collarbones, the curve of his hips and round bum. Besides, the garment is probably the most comfortable thing he has ever worn during his entire existence, so he doubts he’ll have any problems getting used to it.

He glances at the clock, seeing that he has only five minutes to get to the lobby. For a minute, he looks about the room searching for his wallet and cell phone, when he suddenly realizes he no longer has or needs these things. He doesn’t understand why this realization doesn’t make him feel sad, but he does feel a sense of gratitude that he’s handling his situation so well. He heads out of his room, closing the door behind him and takes the lift to the lobby.

Louis has no sooner stepped off the lift than Donald appears before him, exclaiming, “Right on time, Mr. Toml-I- _Louis_. Your tram is right out front.”

Parked in the hotel’s semicircular drive is a green tram nearly identical to the one Louis rode in the day before, however this tram is a bit smaller. An illuminated sign reading _Final Stop: Review Center_ hangs directly above the tram’s front windshield. Louis climbs on board and takes a seat near the front. The tram is only half-full of passengers and so Louis has the entire two-person bench seat to himself. The driver starts the vehicle and steers the tram onto the boulevard, making the first right onto a pretty, tree-lined motorway. Louis leans back in his seat and is just getting comfortable when he feels a light tap on his shoulder. He turns around to see who is seeking his attention.

“Well you’re simply gorgeous aren’t you?” A woman who has to be in her late eighties asks. She has fluffy white hair piled in a loose bun on top of her head. Her face is heavily wrinkled, her skin papery and speckled with age spots. She is quite beautiful. She smiles fondly at Louis.

“Thank you very much, Ma’am,” Louis responds.

“Oh, you’re very welcome, dear. Can I touch your hair?” She asks, her bony fingers already brushing through his fringe. Louis forces himself not to raise his eyebrows and instead smiles and nods his head. “It’s so soft,” she continues. “Reminds me of my cat, Minxy.” She pulls her hand away. “But I don’t want to bore you.” She sighs heavily. “You’re so young. Such a shame.”

Louis smiles at her genuinely. “You couldn’t bore me if you tried, love,” he replies. “Go on, then. Tell me about Minxy.” The woman, her name is _Nellie_ , she informs him, positively beams. Louis listens patiently and nods politely as she tells him all about Minxy, then about the fourteen other cats she had during the course of her lifetime. She doesn’t let Louis get a word in edgewise and he is more than a bit relieved when the tram stops and the driver announces that they’ve arrived at their first stop, the Advocate Offices of Diamond, Brown, Smith & Wilson.

“This is where I get off, darling,” Louis tells her, taking her hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. Nellie practically swoons, patting his hand softly in return.

“Good luck with everything, sweet boy,” she yells as Louis makes his way off the tram and out onto the foot-pavement. He waves at her as the tram pulls away and she blows him a kiss.

“Sweet,” he smiles to himself and then turns to face the building housing his advocate’s office.

The building is a massive and boxy granite structure, not quite a skyscraper, but definitely impressive. Louis enters through a set of automatic sliding glass doors and walks into a large lobby, decorated sparsely save for a huge, semi-circular reception desk, behind which a young woman dressed in a smart black business suit is seated. She wears a telephone headset and is typing furiously at a computer when Louis approaches. She looks up at Louis and smiles pleasantly.

“Name?” she asks.

“Louis. Louis Tomlinson,” he replies. “I’m here to see Mr. – ”

“Diamond,” she interrupts. “Yes. I see he has you scheduled for half twelve. You’re right on time, Mr. Tomlinson.” The woman points to a corridor to her left. “Take the first lift and get off on the eighth floor. When you exit the lift, take the second door on your right for Mr. Diamond’s office. Although,” she adds, “it really doesn’t matter what door you enter. They all lead to the same place.”

Louis starts to speak, but the woman waves him off, answering her headset. “Good afternoon,” she says. “Advocate Offices of Diamond, Brown, Smith & Wilson, how may I direct your call?” She looks up at Louis and raises her eyebrows, jerking her thumb in the direction of the corridor and the awaiting lifts.

Louis nods and takes the designated lift as directed. Upon entering he hits the number _8_ and the doors close, the opening bars of an orchestrated Muzak version of The Fray’s “How to Save a Life” filling the car with sound. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis mutters, remembering the last time he heard the song. Before he has a chance to let that memory fully sink in however, the lift chimes and Louis arrives at his floor.

“Second door on your right,” he mumbles to himself as he steps off the lift. Another man is exiting the lift next to the one Louis is riding in and he enters the door directly to the left of the one Louis is approaching. Louis pulls open the door and steps inside, only to look over to his left and see that the man is entering the same space. “Ah, so this is what she meant,” he says to no one in particular. “They all lead to one place.”

The space is actually one massive room, divided into individual sections, with each doorway leading to a small seating area and reception desk, all positioned side by side in a long row which Louis surmises comprises an entire floor of the building. The individual reception areas all look the same too: from their upright upholstered chairs configured in a “U” formation, to the cherry wood end tables, to the simple reception desks behind which attendants dressed in the same smart business attire as the lobby attendant wore sit, headphones propped on their heads. Even the colorful flower arrangements are the same, all situated in the center of rectangular coffee tables that are positioned between the groupings of chairs.

Louis doesn’t even have a chance to approach the reception desk before the young woman seated behind it stands, extending her hand.

“Mr. Tomlinson, I presume,” she says, with a warm smile. “Right on time. Well done, Sir.” Louis is beginning to think that punctuality is highly revered in the Afterlife. “If you’ll have a seat, Mr. Diamond will be out shortly, but in the meantime, can I bring you a refreshment? Tea? Coffee? Anything really.”

For a brief moment, Louis thinks about the ham and cheese omelet he had for breakfast, his mouth watering, but he replies, “No, I’m good thank you.” He takes a seat, facing away from the reception desk and towards the next seating area directly to his right. He grabs a magazine off the coffee table titled _Footie Over the UK_ and begins to leaf through its pages. He is halfway through an article about the pitches in Judgment City when he hears the other man’s voice for the first time.

“Hello, I’m here to see Ms. Wilson.”

The voice is like warm syrup being poured from a pitcher, thick and slow and delicious.

Louis freezes. The voice washes over him and he feels… He feels interested. More than interested. He looks up to the reception area to the right where the voice is coming from and when he sees the actual _person_ behind the voice he briefly loses his sense of hearing (and all other faculties, really), an electric spark zipping through his spine, a loud buzzing in his ears. “Holy hell,” he whispers, completely and utterly awestruck.

The voice belongs to a man, obviously. Louis can only see him in profile at first, but what he does see takes his breath away. He is tall. Lean, but not too thin, and he is dressed in a tupa like the one Louis wears. His long hair is chestnut brown with the occasional strand of sun-kissed gold and falls over his shoulders in a cascade of loose curls. He smiles at the receptionist and she smiles back, stuttering helplessly, “Yes! Yes! Ms. Styles is excited to meet you, Mr. Wilson… Um…” She clears her throat. “I mean… Ms. Wilson is looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Styles. Just. Um… Have a seat.” The receptionist then lets out a high-pitched laugh which boarders on hysterical and directs the man to the seating area; she looks like she has just been hit by a truck. Louis knows the feeling.

The man turns to find a seat and it’s then that his eyes meet Louis’.

The man’s mouth drops open briefly at about the time Louis’ does the same. They stare at each other stupidly for a minute and Louis’ feels like his body is on fire, sparks shooting out of his fingertips and toes. He thinks that he can actually feel his circulation, the blood coursing through his veins, tingling his extremities and pumping wildly through his heart. Louis is dumbstruck. All he can focus on is the pale skin, green eyes and soft pink lips that stand before him. He is completely helpless.

Slowly, the man’s face relaxes; he closes his lips and his mouth turns up into a soft smile, a dimple popping on his cheek that sends a jolt of electricity through Louis’ belly.

 _If I wasn’t already dead, your face would kill me_ , Louis thinks to himself and he has no control when his mouth gives way to a smile of his own, his eyes crinkling as his grin spreads, but staying locked with those belonging to the stranger. Suddenly, Louis is reminded of a favorite quote that he carried in his wallet for a long time when he was on Earth. He never dreamed that quote would apply to himself and he whispers, “and you smiled because you knew,” under his breath, his heart beating harder by the second.

The man raises an eyebrow and Louis panics, wondering if he heard him, but the man simply smiles a bit wider and lets out a slow breath, as if he had been holding it in for a long time.

Louis opens and closes his mouth, wanting to speak, to introduce himself or at least offer a hello, but he utterly lacks the voice to do so.

The man actually starts to walk over to Louis and Louis is quite certain that this moment is what he lived and died for, when the receptionist calls out to the man, “Ms. Wilson will you see you now, Mr. Styles.” The man, _Mr. Styles_ , blinks and then slowly looks away from Louis and nods in acknowledgement. He turns back to lock eyes with Louis again, looking over his shoulder at Louis and shrugging softly as he is ushered through a set of double doors behind the reception area, presumably into the office of Ms. Wilson.

He is gone from Louis’ life just as quickly as he was ushered in. Louis feels awash in a combination of adoration, lust, and confusion.

“Well, well, well,” a voice chuckles directly beside Louis, pulling him out of his daze. “This _is_ an interesting day.”

Louis looks up and once again finds himself absolutely dumbfounded. Standing before him is a handsome man dressed in a gorgeous charcoal grey suit that looks like it might be from Armani, but Louis isn’t sure if they carry designer fashions in the Afterlife. The man’s crisp white shirt is perfectly pressed and a silk tie in the same charcoal grey as the suit and accentuated with blue and green diagonal stripes is carefully tied in a Windsor knot around his neck. His black shoes are polished to a mirrored shine. He looks stunning. He also looks ridiculously familiar.

_Where in the fuck am I, anyway?_

“Holy shit,” Louis says, not even trying to mask the awe in his voice as he looks up at the man who stands before him “Are you – ”

“Here we go again,” the man answers rolling his eyes. “No. I am not _him_ ,” he states ardently in an American accent, his face then relaxing into a smile. “My name is Marcus Diamond, Mr. Tomlinson. I’m your advocate.” He extends his hand and Louis shakes it tentatively, trying to pull himself together, the past minute or so having left him wholly unraveled.

“I’m sorry,” Louis mutters, clearing his throat, “I just… Um. This has just been a strange couple of days and, um… you look so much like – ”

“I know,” Mr. Diamond responds. “But I promise you, although _he may look just like me,_ ” he states emphatically, “I am not now, nor have I ever been, Kanye West.”

Louis shakes his head. “Well, you look exactly like him. Like, literally, _exactly like him._ I’m half tempted to ask you for an autograph, although I’m not sure how eBay works on this side.”

Mr. Diamond chuckles. “Come on, Tomlinson, let’s go talk in my office.”

He guides Louis through a set of double doors directly behind the reception area and ushers him into a large, sunny office featuring a wall of windows that overlook Judgment City. The opposite wall is lined with a series of shelves loaded with thick books and the occasional knick-knack. A small wet-bar is positioned in the corner, its glass shelves lined with crystal decanters and highball glasses. Mr. Diamond’s desk is polished mahogany and he directs Louis to sit in one of two, straight-back leather chairs that are positioned in front of the desk, facing it head on.

“Would you like a drink, Mr. Tomlinson?” Mr. Diamond asks.

Louis could really use a drink. Aside from the whole being dead thing, he’s just been knocked nearly unconscious by the most beautiful man he has ever seen (and who is sitting in the very next office) and now he’s chatting it up with a Kanye West doppelganger in a swank office in the Afterlife. It’s all a bit… Much. But instead of accepting Mr. Diamond’s offer, Louis decides to take the safe route, “It’s half noon,” he responds. “Bit early, innit?”

Mr. Diamond rolls his eyes in response. “Listen, Tomlinson. _Louis_. I’m going to call you _Louis_ from now on, is that okay?” Louis nods his head yes in response. “And you’re going to call me _Marcus_ , got it?” Louis again nods in agreement. “You can be honest with me, Louis. In fact, that’s what our relationship is going to be all about from here on out: honesty. So, before we get any further into this, what can I get you to drink?”

“Vodka rocks,” Louis responds without missing a beat. Mr. Diamond, _Marcus_ , chuckles and walks over to the bar, dropping ice cubes into two highball glasses and then pouring liquid from a crystal decanter, filling each glass to the top. He walks around his desk and hands a drink to Louis.

Louis takes a sip and feels a rush of warmth as the liquor flows through his body. His tense muscles instantly start to relax and he lets out a long sigh. “Even the vodka here tastes like heaven.”

Marcus smiles. “Everything here tastes like heaven, Louis. It’s just one of the perks of the Afterlife. Now, do you know _why_ you’re here?” Marcus asks.

“No, sir,” Louis responds, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what _here_ is.”

“Marcus.”

“No, Marcus,” Louis tries again. Marcus smiles in response. “Is this heaven?” Louis asks.

“No, it isn’t heaven,” Marcus answers.

“Is it hell?” Louis asks, suddenly concerned.

“No,” Marcus replies, his lips turning up in a smile. “It isn’t hell either. In fact, there is no hell, Louis. Although I have heard certain parts of the United States are getting pretty close.” Marcus laughs at his own joke, Louis joining in, the liquor making him feel loose and buzzed.

“Well, Louis, to state it bluntly, you’re here in Judgment City to defend your life,” Marcus continues.

“Defend my life?” Louis repeats, nervously. He takes another sip of his drink.

“Yes. Defend your life!” Marcus responds, smiling broadly at Louis. “ But I don’t want you to be afraid. This is all quite routine. It’s something everyone goes through when they die. I went through it when I died. The receptionist who directed you to my office went through it when she died. Hell, the tram operator who brought you to my office this morning went through it when _he_ died. It’s all a part of life. And death,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

“I don’t understand,” Louis answers. He’s not sure if it’s the idea of _defending his life_ or the alcohol that is making him feel lightheaded and confused.

“Of course you don’t!” Marcus laughs and then begins to explain. “Well, Louis. When you’re born into this universe, you’re born into it for a very long time. You live many different lifetimes and after each one there is a review period and that’s what you’re in right now.”

Louis looks at him seriously, trying to take in all that Marcus is telling him, but honestly he hasn’t quite fully grasped the idea that he is dead, so the idea of a _review period_ seems a bit beyond comprehension. Marcus continues. “You see, Louis, every second of your life on Earth is recorded.”

“Recorded?” Louis repeats.

“Yes, recorded. Not unlike how during your lifetime you always made a point of recording _The Great British Bake Off_ and _Celebrity Big Brother_. Your entire life was recorded in much the same way, Louis. Everyone’s life on Earth is recorded and at the end of each life, we take a look at that recording. Basically, we look at a few of the days and review them. Examine them closely. Then, if everyone agrees, you move forward.”

“What do you mean move forward?”

“I mean _move forward_. Continue onward to bigger and better things. The point of this whole existence thing is to keep growing and to keep getting smarter, to use as much of your brain as possible.” Marcus taps his temple with his index finger. “For example, I use forty-eight percent of my brain. Do you know how much you use, Louis?”

Louis furrows his brows, considering. He’s sure he’s not as smart as Kanye-Marcus, but he knows he’s fairly intelligent. “Forty-five percent?” Louis asks in response, trying to sound humble.

Marcus throws his head back and laughs. “Three,” he answers, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry?” Louis responds, utterly shocked.

“Three,” Marcus repeats, smiling. “I might go so far as to say that you, Louis Tomlinson, use three and a half percent. But definitely not four.”

“I only use three and a half percent of my brain?” Louis asks incredulously, because seriously, this cannot be right.

“Yes, three. Or three and a half, if you prefer,” Marcus answers sympathetically. “But don’t worry about it,” he says in a comforting tone. “Everyone on Earth uses only three to five percent of his or her brain. That’s why they’re there.”

“Three. Three percent,” Louis repeats, holding three fingers in the air to reiterate his point. He starts to add a fourth finger but folds it back down sheepishly. “Three to five percent? You mean nobody on Earth uses more of their brain than that?”

Marcus smiles. “When you use more than five percent of your brain, Louis, you don’t want to be on Earth. Believe me. Not that your mini-malls and cineplexes aren’t lovely, but there are many more exciting destinations for smarter people.”

Louis shakes his head and takes another big swig from his drink. If ever he needed to feel the soothing calm of alcohol, it’s right now at this very moment. Marcus gets up and tops off both of their glasses.

“Now then,” Marcus continues. “Being from Earth as you are and using as _little_ _of your brain_ as you do, your life has essentially been devoted to dealing with fear.”

“It has?” Louis asks.

Marcus smiles warmly. “Everyone on Earth deals with fear, Louis. That’s what _Little Brains_ do.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “ _Little Brains_. What are Little Brains?”

Marcus smiles, barely suppressing a chuckle. “That’s what we call you people from Earth behind your backs.” He then lets out a hearty laugh, thoroughly amused. Marcus picks up a sheaf of papers off his desk and begins to glance through them. “Forgive me, Louis,” he laughs again. “It’s just too easy.”

Louis knows that he should feel irritated. He knows that to an extent, Marcus is making fun of him and he should be defensive, if not angry. But instead, he feels curious, and really, Marcus seems to be genuinely friendly and on Louis’ side. Louis realizes that Marcus is laughing _with him_ and not really _at him,_ and that Louis himself is in on the joke. He likes Marcus and since they will be working together, he wants Marcus to like him in return.

“Who _are_ you?” Louis asks, his curiosity besting his desire to appear cool.

Marcus gives Louis a soft smile. “I’m just like you, Louis. I was on Earth a very long time ago,” he says wistfully. “But I advanced. I moved forward. I got over my fears and I got smarter. Let me ask you. Do you have friends who suffer stomachaches? Irritable Bowel Syndrome? Chronic migraines?”

“Just about every one of them,” Louis responds honestly. His mind flashes to Liam and how he keeps a bottle of Pepto-Bismol in his briefcase, always taking a huge swig to calm his stomach before important business presentations. Louis himself always had a small bottle of paracetamol on hand to quell any headaches that would arise before meeting new clients.

“That’s fear, Louis,” Marcus says genuinely. “Fear is like a giant fog that sits on your brain and blocks everything: real feelings, true happiness, complete joy. These things simply can’t get through that fog. But if you can lift it…” Marcus face splits into a wide smile. “If you can lift that fog, Louis, you are in for the ride of your life.”

Louis is completely mesmerized and also a little afraid. And now, after what he has just learned about fear, he is almost afraid to be afraid. He’s also starting to feel more than a little bit tipsy. He holds his palms to either side of his head and says to Marcus sincerely, “My three percent is swimming.”

Marcus laughs and shakes his head. Louis takes another sip of his drink and Marcus sets down his stack of papers and stares at Louis intently.

“What. What are you looking at?” Louis asks, suddenly self-conscious. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m looking at you,” Marcus answers, changing the subject from death and fear to Louis’ physical appearance. “You look good in that tupa. A lot of people can’t pull it off, but you do. It’s really very flattering on you.”

“It is?” Louis answers, looking down at himself and puffing out his chest, just a touch.

“Yes!” Marcus responds enthusiastically. “Stand up. Let me take a look.”

Louis tilts his head in question, but when Marcus doesn’t acquiesce, Louis stands. Marcus swirls his finger to get Louis to turn around and Louis does a quick three-sixty turn in response before plunking back down into his seat.

“Damn!” Marcus laughs. “That thing looks really good on you. Accentuates your ass.”

“Excuse me?” Louis huffs, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh come on now. Don’t play coy. I use forty-eight percent of my brain, remember? I know that _you know_ that your ass is one of your best features. Hell, you probably walk into rooms backwards just so that ass of yours can enter first.”

Louis’ mouth drops open indignantly. “My arse…” Louis starts, trying to sound affronted before pausing and relenting, officially drunk. “My arse _is_ indeed one of my best features.” Louis cannot help but giggle.

Marcus laughs in return and points at Louis. “You thought I was hitting on you at first, didn’t you?”

“For a minute,” Louis answers honestly. “But then I realized you were giving me some kind of weird, new-car appraisal and it was actually kind of funny.”

“I like you, Louis,” Marcus states emphatically. “Most Little Brains wouldn’t get that. The smaller the brain, the bigger the ego, I’ve always found. But you’re not like most. You’re thoughtful and you’re smart. And you’re right on the cusp. That’s why I took your case. I think you’ll be very interesting to work with, and I think I’ll be able to help you.”

“Well, I would appreciate all the help you can give me,” Louis answers sincerely. “So then,” Louis says, letting out a long breath. “I’m on trial for being afraid?”

“Well, first of all, Louis, I don’t like to call it a trial. Second of all: _yes_.”

“But what if I’m guilty? Then what happens to me?”

“Don’t think of this in terms of _innocent_ or _guilty_ ,” Marcus replies. “Worst case scenario, you get sent back to Earth to try it all again.”

“Sent back to Earth,” Louis repeats. “So, a person just keeps going back until they get it right?”

Marcus scrunches his nose and shakes his head slightly. “Well,” Marcus answers, “a person doesn’t keep going back indefinitely. Eventually, if they can’t get it right, the universe will just,” he raises his hands and mimics a basketball free-throw shot, “throw them away.”

“Shit,” Louis mutters. “Have I been to Earth before?”

“Oh yeah,” Marcus answers, nodding his head.

“Well, how many times?”

“You’re approaching twenty,” Marcus shrugs.

Louis raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Twenty? Is that a lot?”

“I was there six,” Marcus answers.

“Oh my God!” Louis says, his eyes opening wide. “I feel like the bloody idiot of the universe.”

“Don’t be silly, Louis.” Marcus reassures him. “Our firm has worked with people who have been there a hundred times.” Marcus snickers and leans forward toward Louis, raising an eyebrow, “I wouldn’t want to hang out with any of them, but that’s beside the point. I have a good feeling about you, Louis. You’re an interesting case and I believe in you. I think the universe has great things in store for you if the Review goes our way.

“I hope so,” Louis answers. “I don’t know much about what is happening or where I am, but I like it here. Isn’t that strange?” Louis muses. “I’m not sure that I want to go back for another go at life on Earth. This feels…” Louis lets out a sigh, trying to place a finger on exactly what he is feeling.

“Right?” Marcus offers.

“Yes!” Louis responds enthusiastically. “It all feels very right to me.”

It’s then that Louis thinks of _him_ : the beautiful man in the waiting room. All thoughts of defending his life and his little brain disappearing in favor of pale skin and green eyes and the pinkest lips Louis has ever seen.

“Erm. Marcus,” Louis asks, clearing his throat. “Do you represent all of the people that come to your offices?”

Marcus smiles knowingly, taking a slow sip of his drink and then raising his glass to Louis in silent cheers.

“His name is _Harry_ , Louis.”

“What?” Louis responds, his eyes widening and then blinking slowly.

“Come on now. Even if I were a three-percenter like yourself, I would still be able see right through you and figure out what you’re talking about. _Who_ you are talking about, rather. I saw the way you were giving him heart eyes. And it looked to me that he was giving you the same puppy-love heart eyes right back. It was kind of adorable, actually.”

Louis can feel the warm blush spreading across his cheeks, but he realizes there is no point in trying to cover up what he is feeling. There is certainly no point in lying to Marcus; they’ve already established that their relationship needs to be built on honesty. Plus, once he thinks of that chestnut hair and those soft curls and that perfect nose, Louis can’t help but ask. “So are you representing him, then?”

“No.” Marcus smiles. “But my partner, Sam, is. And all the partners in this firm tend to stick to the same Review schedule. I’m sure you’ll be seeing your boy again. Probably sooner than later, in fact.”

Louis can’t help but grin and he ducks his head to hide his smile from Marcus, completely embarrassed by how ridiculously smitten he already feels for this stranger. This _Harry_.

“Do you like steak?” Marcus asks, interrupting Louis’ thoughts.

“I love it,” Louis answers, remembering that Donald told him he would be having lunch with Marcus after their appointment.

“Good. We’re within walking distance of the best steakhouse in Judgment City. Let’s go grab something to eat and I’ll fill you in on what to expect with your Review. I’m famished.”

“Sounds great,” Louis answers, remembering his ridiculously delicious breakfast and suddenly ravenous. He stands, and for a minute feels a bit dizzy, his body buzzing from the alcohol coursing through his veins. He decides he better stick with nonalcoholic beverages at lunch, lest he won’t make it back to his hotel in one piece.

“Hey! Do you like Elvis?” Marcus asks.

“Elvis Presley?” Louis responds in confusion as they walk toward the door together, heading out of Marcus’ office and into the main reception room. Louis does a quick survey of the adjoining waiting area in search of Harry.

“He still in his meeting,” Marcus says, clearly attuned to Louis’ actions. “And in answer to your question, yes, Elvis Presley.”

Louis feels a tinge of disappointment that he can’t stare at Harry again, but then his mind goes back to Elvis as they head out to the hallway and bank of lifts.

“Of course, I like him,” Louis answers. “He was the King of Rock and Roll, after all.” He thinks back to childhood visits to his grandmother’s house and how she always had Elvis records spinning on her ancient turntable. He smiles at the memory, a flood of fondness washing over him. “My Nan was absolutely crazy about him.”

Marcus smiles. He pats Louis on the shoulder as they step onto the lift and the doors close in front of them. “Well, Louis. You’re in for a real treat.”

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Harry and Elvis

After their meeting, Louis and Marcus walk over to a local steakhouse named _Hank’s Steak and Bliss_. The name of the restaurant is more than appropriate. Louis orders a porterhouse steak and a baked potato loaded with bacon, cheese, and sour cream, every bite tasting better than the one that came before. He washes it all down with two cream sodas and fresh ice water, still buzzed from the vodka he had in Marcus’ office.

For his lunch, Marcus orders a _glebcake_ , which to Louis looks like a pile of gelatinous shit. It’s brown and gooey and has little flecks of iridescent color that practically sparkle when the thing moves, which is pretty much constantly, as the glebcake shakes back and forth on the plate like some kind of inedible Jell-O. Before diving in, Marcus bends over his plate, wafting his hand over the brown heap and inhaling a sniff, extolling: “Excellent! Excellent!” to the waiter who delivered the mess, as Louis crinkles his nose in disgust.

“What in bloody hell is that thing,” Louis asks, cutting into his steak, his eyes falling shut automatically as he chews his first bite, overtaken by sheer bliss.

Marcus smiles. “I guess you might call it brain food.”

“Brain food?” Louis repeats.

“Well, yes. Do you remember how I told you I use forty-eight percent of my brain?” Marcus asks.

“Of course,” Louis responds indignantly. “You’re _so, so_ much smarter than me, Marcus,” he teases.

Marcus smiles. “True,” he states simply, shrugging in agreement. Louis can’t help but grin. “The more of your brain you use, Louis, the more sophisticated your palate. My brain registers flavors that Little Brains… Erm… Those brains less advanced than mine, could never comprehend. It’s just a normal progression that happens when you get smarter. The food you’re eating right now. It tastes delicious to you, doesn’t it?”

Louis nods enthusiastically. “Best steak I’ve ever eaten. And this potato…” He closes his eyes and places his hand over his heart, sighing dramatically. “So perfect. This is literally a perfect potato, Marcus. And I was never even overly keen on potatoes during my lifetime.”

“That’s good,” Marcus smiles. “I’m glad you’re enjoying everything. But to me, your food tastes quite bland. It’s like plain porridge, or white rice. It’s simple. It’s boring. But this,” Marcus points to the pile of goop in front of him. “This is the most delicious and satisfying food a person could ever hope to eat.”

Louis decides right then and there that he has to try a bite of Marcus’ lunch. “May I?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

Marcus grins, “Trust me, Louis. You do _not_ want to try this.”

“I might be smarter than you think, Marcus,” Louis challenges, raising his eyebrows. “Perhaps my palate is advanced enough to handle brain food. Hell, I might even be a four-percenter.”

Marcus can’t help but laugh.

Louis bobs his head back and forth and does his best Kanye impression. “ _Somebody please say grace so I can save face_ ,” he half sings and half raps.

Marcus plays along, thrumming in response and joining in, “ _And have a reason to cover my face. I even made you a plate_ ,” and he holds up his plate to Louis and they both sing, “ _Soul food, know how Granny do it_.” Marcus smiles and pulls his plate back, setting it on the table. He chuckles and says, “You do realize that I am not, in fact, Kanye West, don’t you?”

Louis laughs, “Well, you have his rhymes down and I should know. My best mate Liam played him constantly.” A wave of fondness washes over Louis as he thinks about his friend. He squints and points his fork at Marcus. “How can I be so sure that you’re not him?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and trying to hold back his smile.

Marcus shakes his head and grins. “Because Kanye is alive and well and walking on Earth. Somewhere in Los Angeles, I think.” He looks Louis straight in the eyes. “You have to trust me, Louis. This whole thing is built on honesty, remember?” Louis nods in response. “That having been said,” Marcus continues, “I do enjoy the music of Earth and I’ll admit, Kanye is on my playlist.”

Louis smirks, exclaiming proudly, “I knew it! Now give me a bite of that ugly slop you have on your plate.”

Marcus lifts up his plate and holds it out to Louis and then pulls it back slightly and raises his eyebrows in questioning, Louis motioning for him to bring it forward in return. Louis picks up his spoon and scoops a small, wobbly blob off Marcus’ plate, the brown concoction shaking dramatically in the bowl of the utensil. He hasn’t even gotten the spoon to his mouth when the smell hits him; it’s bloody awful. But Louis has never been a quitter, so he forges ahead and shoves the entire spoonful in his mouth. He immediately gags and then spits the glop into his napkin.

“Jesus Christ!” Louis exclaims. “That’s the most vile thing I’ve ever tasted.” He looks around quickly and then takes the clean portion of his napkin and wipes it furiously over his tongue, trying to rid his mouth of the unpleasant aftertaste.

Marcus smiles and shakes his head. “I tried to warn you, Louis. Here,” he holds up Louis’ water glass, “drink some water to wash it down.”

Louis does as he is told and then shoves a giant bite of potato in his mouth, attempting to cleanse his palate. After a few more bites, it works, and the horrible memory of the glebcake is forgotten.

After they have eaten their lunches, Louis marveling at Marcus’ enthusiasm over the pile of shining brown goop he dares call _food_ , and Louis eating his entire steak, potato and a sizable piece of chocolate pie for dessert, the waiter brings over cups of tea for both of them, Marcus’ tea appearing about five shades darker than the cup Louis is enjoying.

It’s then that Marcus explains to Louis how his Review will work, once again reiterating that Louis is not on trial. “That having been said,” he tells Louis, “there will be opposing counsel and it will be their job to prove to the three justices present that you aren’t ready to move forward in the universe.”

“Three justices?” Louis asks. “So, I take it they’re the ones who will be making the final decision?”

“Yes. I’m your advocate and opposing counsel is the delegate for the universe. The three justices decide your ultimate fate, whether you should move forward or return to earth, by majority rule. But typically, they are all on the same side.”

“But why don’t they want me to move forward?” Louis asks Marcus, genuinely perplexed. “Why put me on trial?”

“It’s not a question of them _wanting_ you to move forward, Louis. It’s a question of you being _ready_ to do so. It’s important that those who move forward have let go of their fear and thus can contribute to this whole thing, unencumbered.” Marcus holds out his hands in emphasis. “It’s important for the universe too. We wouldn’t want a bunch of Little Brains running the show, now would we?” Marcus chuckles, Louis rolling his eyes in response. “Besides, Louis, it’s really not a trial.”

Louis is still not one hundred percent sure why his life should be reviewed, and despite Marcus’ reassurances, it seems like this Review will be an awful lot like a trial. The odd thing is, he’s only been in Judgment City for less than two full days, one of which was spent in a cloudy sleep haze, and yet he knows for certain that he doesn’t want to start all over again on Earth. Life can be both difficult and wonderful, sure. But the idea of beginning from scratch as a newborn infant is simply unappealing. Having to again deal with growing pains and teenage angst and the stress of coming into adulthood? _No thank you_ , Louis is not interested. He’s been there and done that, apparently near twenty times. He doesn’t know where his sense of conviction on the issue is coming from, but he’s certain he’s ready to move forward in the universe.

Marcus interrupts Louis’ thoughts. “Unfortunately, Louis, I’ve got another meeting scheduled in,” he looks at his watch, “a half hour. I need to get going if I’m going to make it on time.”

“Oh, of course,” Louis says, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. “I just…” he pauses, unsure how to clarify his thoughts. “It’s just that…” Louis takes in a deep breath and blows it out his mouth. “It’s just that this universe thing is a complicated business, is all.”

Marcus nods in agreement and smiles at Louis. He stands from the table. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the tram stop. There’s one not too far from my office. Unless, of course, you want to do some sightseeing in the city?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nah, I was originally planning on checking out one of the footie fields, but I think I might do that tomorrow instead. Not sure I’m up for playing today.”

The two leave the restaurant and make their way out onto the street and head towards the nearest tram stop a few blocks away. “I think I might just go back to the hotel and have a swim in the pool. Maybe take a nap. You know, a low-key night in before my life is put on trial.”

“The swim and the nap sound good, but you’re not staying in tonight,” Marcus tells him. “And it’s _not_ a trial,” he reiterates.

“I’m not staying in?” Louis responds, raising an eyebrow.

“No. You’re not. You said you liked Elvis, right?

“I did… And I do,” Louis answers, a bit confused.

“Well great then, I’m arranging a ticket for you to see him tonight. He’s playing the Belle-Luxe Casino and you’re going to love him. He’s an amazing live performer.”

“Elvis,” Louis repeats, raising his eyebrows. “Elvis Presley is playing a casino in Judgment City? Tonight? And I am going to go see him perform?” Louis pauses and rubs his hand on his chin, contemplating. “And did you really just say _live_ performer? He’s been dead over forty years!”

“Yes. I did,” Marcus responds. “And you’re going. Don’t make me tell you twice. I know you’ll enjoy his show.” Marcus tilts his head and smiles. “Elvis is a Resident of Judgment City Southeastern U.S., but he tours Judgment Cities all over the world. Did you know he never toured Europe when he was alive?” Marcus asks, his voice sounding slightly awed. “His manager was terrible.”

“Elvis Presley…” Louis says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yes. Elvis Presley,” Marcus responds. “Elvis moved forward when he had his Review and then he went into the next realm and studied for a bit. Grew his brain, so to speak. But he came back to entertain people like you. He really is a nice man. Very generous.”

“You know him?” Louis exclaims, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. Marcus nods his head yes and shrugs, a soft smile complimenting his handsome features. “I can’t believe it. This is all so surreal. Do all dead entertainers perform in the Afterlife?”

Marcus laughs. “Not all of them, Louis. And just like everyone else, many have to go back to Earth to give it another go. But some artists who advance continue to follow their earthly passions here, whatever they may be. And some choose to share those passions with others. It’s munificent, really, especially when one considers what they leave behind to come back to a Judgment City.”

“But I think this is actually an amazing place,” Louis responds, shocked that there are better places in the universe.

“Oh! It is, it is!” Marcus states emphatically. “Judgment City is wonderful and the Residents here are some of the best in the universe. But what lies ahead is even better. It’s like nothing you can even imagine.”

Louis stops on the foot-pavement and turns toward Marcus, looking him straight in the eye. “Wait. But you came back here after you advanced?”

Marcus ducks his head, and it’s the first time Louis has seen him look almost shy, humbled rather. “I did, yes.”

“But if what’s ahead in the next realm is so much better, why would you want to return here?”

Marcus takes a moment before answering and when he does, his voice is serious and kind. “Because, Louis, I like helping people. Every Resident here came back for that very reason. We’re all here because we want this experience to be the best one possible for those who cross over. Regardless of whether they advance or go back to Earth.”

They start walking again and Louis thinks about what Marcus has just said. Louis thinks Judgment City is beautiful and the people are all so genuinely friendly. And yet, there is someplace _even better_ ahead and the people that he’s encountered since his arrival chose to leave that, just to help others? He suddenly has a new appreciation for those who work in Judgment City and call it home. A thought occurs to him.

“This is a bit off topic,” Louis says as he and Marcus continue on. “But how come the Residents all wear regular clothes like they wear on Earth, instead of tupas?” He pinches at the fabric of his sleeve and adds, “This thing is really, really comfortable.”

Marcus laughs. “The tupas _are_ comfortable, and so are the clothes I’m wearing. But the Intakes, that’s what we call new arrivals like yourself,” he adds, “The Intakes have always worn tupas. Some argue that the reason for the tupas is that the garments take the pressure off the Intakes as far as choosing what to wear goes, and that’s a big part of it. How can one focus on examining their life if they are worried about which pair of trousers to wear with what shirt?” Louis nods in understanding.

Marcus continues. “Another common theory is that the tupas are more for the Residents than for the new arrivals. They help us to more easily identify Intakes so we know who might need help. That theory is kind of moot though, because when you use as much of your brain as most of the Residents including myself do, you can pretty much determine if a person is an Intake or a resident before even speaking to them.”

Louis looks at Marcus and says dramatically, “I hope to one day be as smart as you, oh great Marcus.”

“Many share your aspirations, Louis.” Marcus pats Louis’ shoulder and Louis smirks at Marcus and shakes his head in response. Louis likes Marcus a lot. He’s pretty sure they could become great friends if they get the chance. “Besides,” Marcus continues, “the tupas are very ethereal, don’t you think? When you were alive, didn’t you kind of picture an Afterlife where everyone walks around in long white robes?”

Louis laughs, “Well, now that you mention it, they do fit the stereotypes I had in my head about heaven, or whatever this realm is called.”

Marcus grins. “I think it’s a combination of all these reasons, really. The tupas are comfortable, they eliminate unnecessary options, they stand out in a crowd… and,” Marcus adds, looking at Louis’ backside, “They really show off that ass of yours.” Louis rolls his eyes and juts out his hip in response, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his face. They arrive at the tram stop.

“This is where I leave you,” Marcus says. “Listen, I don’t want you to worry about a thing for tonight, Louis. I’ll have my secretary call your concierge and arrange your ticket and transportation. The show starts at 8, so you’ll probably want to leave by 7:20 at the latest. That should give you plenty of time to get your seat, have a drink and get settled. I know you’re going to have a great time.” He smiles like he’s keeping some sort of secret and winks.

Louis thanks Marcus for lunch and the concert ticket and goes to stand under the awning of the tram stop. Within a few minutes, a green tram arrives and Louis climbs on board, taking a window seat and thinking about the events of the day as the tram traverses the city streets. In just one afternoon, Louis has learned so much about life and death and the universe, and it’s given him years worth of contemplation material. But mostly, he just thinks about Harry.

Louis is no sooner buckled into his seat than chocolate curls, perfect bow lips and green eyes overtake his thoughts. Louis wonders how one person can be so beautiful? He thinks about the way Harry’s hair falls in loose ringlets over his shoulders and how his voice sounds like sex and honey and his own heart starts beating faster.

 _How are Harry’s lips so pink?_ When Harry closed his mouth and those pink lips turned up into a smile, Louis felt his stomach drop to his toes. And his dimple! God. His dimple. Louis wants to kiss Harry’s entire face and lap his tongue into that dimple. He wants to see that dimple every day for eternity. A spark of arousal runs through Louis’ groin at the thought of Harry’s smile and dimple and perfect face. _Jesus, Tommo, control yourself_. But really, he knows that if he sees Harry again, that’s going to be difficult to do.

The tram pulls into The Regency and as he gets off, Louis thanks the driver, thinking about what Marcus had said about those who choose to come back to this realm. The driver nods and smiles at Louis in response.

Louis goes up to his room and calls Donald, asking him about appropriate swim attire in the Afterlife. Less than five minutes later, Donald is at his door, holding out a pair of white swim trunks boasting green stripes that run down either leg in one hand, the other hand holding a matching white and green striped beach towel.

“Thanks, mate,” Louis grins.

The pool area is absolutely stunning. There are three pools total: a lap pool, an indoor/outdoor pool, and a diving pool. There are also two sizable hot tubs and a steam room. Louis chooses to swim the breastroke in the lap pool, attempting to work off some of the breakfast and lunch calories he consumed earlier, even though he has repeatedly been assured that he can eat all he wants and never gain weight. He’s always been a bit self-conscious of his tiny swell of a tummy and exercise makes him feel good.

After his swim, he returns to his room and strips off his wet clothes, hanging his trunks on a towel bar in the bathroom to dry. He calls down to the front desk and asks for a wake-up call in one hour and then climbs into bed to take a nap. He falls asleep immediately.

 

*****

 

Louis is awakened by the sound of his phone ringing and he rolls over to answer, Donald’s friendly voice greeting him on the other end.

“Good evening, Mr. Tomlinson… Um… I’m sorry,” Donald corrects. “ _Louis_. You requested a wake up call. It’s 5:55 PM, which gives you an hour and twenty-five minutes to get ready before you have to catch your tram to the Belle-Luxe. I understand you’ll be seeing the Elvis concert this evening. You’re in for quite a treat!”

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it,” Louis answers, groggily. He’s actually _very_ excited about the show. He thinks of times spent dancing to Elvis with his Nan and feels a burst of love warm his heart.

After he hangs up with Donald, Louis heads to the en-suite, taking a quick, cool shower to wake his body up after his nap. When he gets out, he decides to shave off his scruff, the foamy shaving cream feeling luxurious on his skin as he glides the razor along his jaw line and around his lips.

With his face fresh and clean, he next tackles his hair and chooses to style it back in a quiff in honor of Elvis and the night’s event. It’s a very good look on him. He brushes his teeth and splashes on a bit of unbelievably good-smelling aftershave, and then walks over to the cupboard to slip into a fresh tupa and pants. When he’s dressed and ready to go, he stands back and surveys his appearance. Although Louis is for the most part a humble person, he knows that he is attractive and he thinks to himself that he looks especially dashing this evening. This tupa-thing is really working for him. He sneers his lip and shimmies his shoulders. “Thank you, thank you very much,” he says, doing his best Elvis impression.

He goes down to the lobby at 7:15 and is greeted by Donald who compliments Louis on his hairstyle and punctuality and then instructs him that the Belle-Luxe is the fourth stop on the tram route and should he decide to explore the city a bit after the show, he can take any green tram he sees back to the hotel. “They run all night,” he adds smiling, as he walks Louis to the lobby’s main doors.

The tram is packed with passengers and Louis sits with a woman who looks to be his Nan’s age and who is also going to the show. She is practically beside herself with excitement.

“I’ve loved Elvis since I was thirteen years old,” she tells Louis. “I never got to see him when he was alive. Who knew I had to die for my dreams to come true?”

The tram pulls up in front of the casino and Louis is impressed by what he sees. The building is a massive, mirrored cylinder-shaped structure that looks straight out of _Oceans 11_. It’s pure Las Vegas, boasting sculpted shrubs on either side of the casino’s semicircular drive and huge illuminated water fountains that shoot streams of colored water dozens of meters into the air. Brightly colored flashing neon lights in starburst shapes cover the exterior of the building and a huge marquee scrolls a continuous banner that reads, “LIVE IN CONCERT: ELVIS PRESLEY!”

Louis shakes his head and whispers, “Holy shit. This is real.” He enters the casino and is immediately greeted by a smiling hostess dressed in a skimpy, sparkling showgirl costume and wearing a huge feather headpiece. She asks Louis if he is there for the concert or to gamble.

“I’m here for the Elvis concert,” Louis answers, a bit embarrassed because it feels so surreal to be saying such a thing out loud. She directs him to a box office where he can pick up his ticket for the show.

The box office is quite large, with at least ten ticket windows behind which attendants dressed in bright red vests and trousers and crisp white shirts are seated, each providing help to the guests lined up in front of them. _Providing help to the guests,_ Louis thinks. These people gave up something spectacular in the next realm to return to Judgment City so that they could pass out concert tickets in a casino for dead people. Louis suddenly wants to hug each and every one of them. He approaches the first window and gives the attendant his name and she quickly punches it into a computer.

“Oh!” she exclaims. “You have an excellent seat! You’re actually sitting at one of the two-tops, in the lower level right in front of the floor and main stage.” She hands Louis a ticket that is printed with an image of Elvis Presley and reads _Table 28_. "My number," he whispers and smiles. She instructs him on how to get to the concert hall from the casino’s main room and tells him an usher will help him find his table once he gets there.

Louis walks through the casino, taking in the sights and the sounds as he passes Black Jack, Roulette and Dice tables operated by men and women wearing black tuxedos and surrounded by gamblers clad in tupas. The casino’s main floor is bright and colorful, with neon lights and mirrored walls lending to the electric atmosphere. There are rows of slot machines and gamblers sit on stools in front of them clutching buckets of tokens, the clinking sound of metal spilling out of machines, laughter, shouts of “Jackpot!” and the occasional round of applause filling the air. Beautiful women wearing similar versions of the same revealing showgirl costume the hostess at the entranceway wore mingle about carrying trays of drinks and bowls of snacks to the gamblers.

In addition to the showgirls, there are scantily dressed male attendants who are shirtless except for the crisp white collars and bow ties they sport around their necks. They wear matching white cuffs that are wrapped around their wrists and impossibly tight black trousers and polished black shoes. Each one of them is amazingly handsome and Louis hasn’t seen so many sets of muscled pecs and six-pack abs since the brief period he spent clubbing in London’s gay bars after his divorce. He wonders if this isn’t heaven after all.

He finds his way to the concert hall and lets out a slow whistle as he takes it in. It’s already packed with people and the positive energy in the room is absolutely contagious. There is a huge stage covered in instrument stands and groupings of microphones, a single microphone standing in the center of the stage that’s illuminated by a lone spotlight. A deep blue curtain runs the length of the stage and serves as a backdrop. In front of the stage is an open floor, crowded with at least two or three hundred people dressed in tupas. Most of the people standing in the floor section are women and most of them look to be senior citizens. Louis spots the woman from the tram and she is positioned front and center, her elbows raised to lean on the stage directly below the center microphone that boasts the spotlight.

Behind the floor section is the area where Louis will be sitting. It’s elevated above the lower floor and at just above eye level with the main stage. It has three tiers of small, round tables, each adorned with a bright red tablecloth and flickering lamp. Two seats are positioned side by side behind each table, facing the stage. Behind the section of two-tops is another tiered section featuring rows of open booths, where people sit around crescent-shaped tables and chat and laugh with each other while drinking huge cocktails and pints of beer.

The usher leads Louis to table _28_ and they squeeze around the packed tabletops and people milling about as they make their way. Louis’ table is on the center of the lowest tier and when he approaches the table he thinks he probably has one of the best seats in the house; he’s only about nine or ten meters from the stage and is positioned directly in front of the spotlighted microphone. He feels buzzed with anticipation and is ready for the show. He takes his seat and thanks the usher. Just when he thinks his night can’t get any better, he realizes that his leather-backed chair swivels and he starts twisting the seat from side to side, spinning about like a happy little kid.

A waiter approaches and introduces himself as Kevin, placing two drink menus on the table. Louis stops his chair from swiveling and smiles up at him.

“Sorry, mate,” Louis says, handing Kevin one of the menus. “I’m here alone.”

Kevin smiles and answers, “Actually, it’s a sold out show, sir. So you’ll have a tablemate. I hope that’s okay?”

“Oh! Of course,” Louis answers. Who is he to deny anyone from seeing Elvis? He looks down at his menu to survey the offerings when he hears a familiar voice.

“I think this is where I’m supposed to be sitting?”

A jolt of electricity runs through Louis’ body and he draws in an audible breath. He initially feels so overcome with a combination of excitement and panic that he is borderline nauseous, his emotions indescribable.

 _It’s him_.

He’s only heard it one time, but he would know that voice anywhere, he feels like it’s stamped on his soul. The voice belongs to Harry.

Louis looks up and sure enough, there stands Harry Styles in all of his gorgeous glory.

Kevin looks at Harry’s ticket. “You’re right, sir! This is indeed where you’ll be sitting this evening.”

He steps aside to let Harry sit down. Harry goes to take his seat and it’s then that he sees Louis, their eyes locking on one another. Louis feels hot all over, his body buzzing with energy, his breath quickening.

Being this close to Harry, Louis can see the little details that he missed earlier in the day when Harry was stood across the room. Louis can’t stop his eyes from quickly scanning Harry’s body and he takes note of the fact that Harry wears his tupa well. _Extremely well_. The garment accentuates his broad shoulders and narrow waist and the stretch of fabric from the shiny silk waistband to Harry’s feet gives the impression that Harry’s legs go on for miles. Louis can see a hint of a tattoo peaking out from the banding about Harry’s left wrist, although he’s not sure the design, but there is a distinct cross tattooed on Harry’s left hand, just between his thumb and index finger. Louis thinks Harry’s hands are beautiful.

Louis’ then surveys Harry’s face, drawing in a stunned breath at what he sees. Harry’s eyes are so green and they have tiny flecks of gold that are like absolute sunshine. His eyes remind Louis of a lush field of grass that he wants to roll around in forever. His lips are even pinker than Louis remembered and Harry’s bottom lip momentarily blanches white when he bites down on it, Louis watching in amazement as Harry lets go and it once again plumps with bright pink color.

Harry has the slightest hint of scruff above his top lip and along his jaw line, indicating that he hasn’t shaved since the morning, and there is a little mole between his mouth and jaw that Louis is sure is the loveliest thing he has ever seen. His skin is creamy and smooth and Louis wants to rub his cheek against Harry’s to feel that skin against his own. Harry’s nose is utterly perfect. Hell, even the sloping triangular shape of his eyebrows is beautiful. Louis knows he must be scanning Harry’s features like some kind of deranged lunatic, but he can’t help himself. He just takes in every nuance, every curve and every angle, instantly committing them to memory.

Harry’s face melts into a shy smile and his cheeks blush a soft pink. Louis can feel the flush rushing to his own cheeks and knows that he is blushing too. He smiles back at Harry and the two just stare at each for a moment before Harry slides into his chair.

Harry’s eyes suddenly widen in surprise. “Oh! It swivels,” Harry laughs and then starts to rotate his chair from side to side before catching himself and stopping, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red. He clears his throat and shakes his head. “That was embarrassing,” he laughs sheepishly.

Louis feels engulfed in warmth and utter fondness. “I, um. I was actually quite excited about that feature myself,” he says, trying to suppress the nervous squeak in his voice as he speaks. He starts to swivel his chair again and he can’t help but grin at Harry. He feels like he is twelve years old and swooning over his first crush. Harry grins back and starts to swivel his own chair, his dimple popping on his cheek as his smile widens. Louis is quite certain this moment is possibly the greatest thing that has ever happened to him.

The two continue to stare at each other as they rotate their chairs from side to side, giggling as they eventually slow the swiveling motion to a stop. They turn their chairs to face each other and Louis’ knee lightly brushes against Harry’s. Just the slightest touch is enough to send Louis’ heart racing and he thinks he might die, if he wasn’t already dead, of course.

The moment is interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared and Louis and Harry tear their eyes away from each other, embarrassed, and look toward the intrusion. Kevin nods at them saying, “I’ll just give you gentlemen a few minutes to look over your menus, then.” He chuckles as he walks away.

Louis’ eyes return to Harry’s.

“So, um – ”

“I’m – ”

They both start to speak at the same time. Louis glances down at his lap for a moment, feeling suddenly shy. He then looks back at Harry.

“Um. How about you go first?” Louis asks. Harry nods and smiles in response.

“Right,” he clears his throat. “I was just going to introduce myself. I’m Harry. My name is Harry Styles.” Louis already knows this, but hearing Harry introduce himself makes his stomach flip and all he can do is gaze at Harry like he just told him the meaning of life.

Harry continues, “I… I saw you earlier today, I believe… At my advocate’s office?” Harry rubs his hand over the back of his neck, clearly nervous, but he maintains eye contact with Louis. “Your hair looks different tonight, though. I mean it looks really nice! I love it. I mean, I like it… Your quiff… The quiff suits you.”

Harry briefly looks down at his hands as if considering what to say next, and then looks back at Louis, gazing directly into Louis’ eyes. “But even though your hair is different, I would have recognized you as soon as I saw you, because of your eyes,” Harry’s voice trails off and he shakes his head, embarrassed, as if he can’t believe he just said that out loud. He offers Louis a shy smile and adds,“So, yeah, I recognize you from the office.”

Louis feels his cheeks flush again and the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. _My eyes_ , he thinks to himself. _He recognized me by my eyes_.

“Um. Yeah, that was definitely me... At the advocate’s this morning, I mean,” he says, trying to control his nerves and also sound cool. He’s quite certain he’s failing miserably on both fronts. “Messy fringe in the morning, giant quiff at night,” he jokes, pointing to his hair. Harry smiles wide in response, displaying two rows of perfect teeth, his dimple back on full display. “I saw you too,” Louis says shyly. “My name is Louis, Louis Tomlinson, by the way.”

Harry smiles and holds out his hand. “Pleased to finally properly meet you, Louis Tomlinson.”

 _Properly_. Louis is having a proper meeting with Harry and Harry used the word _finally_ to describe this proper meeting, as if he’d wanted to properly meet Louis for ages. Louis has never felt more on the same page with another person in his entire existence.

He reaches out to shake Harry’s hand and his own small hand just _fits_ , completely enveloped within Harry’s: a hand that feels utterly soft and yet ridiculously strong and sure. Louis never wants to let go and their fingers linger intertwined for a moment before he finally does.

Louis lets out a breath. “So, shall we order a drink, then?” he asks.

Harry nods and smiles. “Yeah, that would be great. Everything here tastes so delicious. I can’t wait to find out what the cocktails are like.”

“I agree,” Louis responds. “Best food I’ve ever eaten, bar none. I’ve loved every single thing I’ve tasted since I’ve arrived.” His mind momentarily flashes on the glebcake and he grimaces. “Except for this one thing.”

“Really?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows. “You had bad food here? That seems impossible!”

“Yeah, well,” Louis says, letting out a huff of breath, “I made the mistake of asking my advocate for a bite of his lunch. It was literally the worst thing I’ve ever consumed in my entire life… Or death,” he adds and Harry barks out a laugh at Louis’ joke. Louis is sure that Harry’s laughter is the most perfect sound he has ever heard. “Spit it out in a napkin, but I’ll carry the memory of that horrible slop with me forever.”

Harry continues to chuckle as he runs his fingers through his hair, shaking out the back and then swooping a mass of long curls to the side. He then tugs on an end piece as if locking it in place. Louis’ fingers briefly twitch in response, the desire to run his own fingers through Harry’s tresses almost uncontrollable.

“I think I know what you’re talking about. I had lunch with my advocate today, too, and she ate this creamy pile of green sludge. Looked like baby food. Actually, it looked like what you would find in a nappy. I’ll never understand how she got through the whole plate without gagging... and I love green food!” Harry adds. “I was a total health food nut when I was on Earth, but I doubt that I’ll ever understand the food the Big Brains eat.”

Louis bursts out laughing. “ _Big Brains_? That’s very clever!”

“Well, let me tell you, I’m not very fond of the expression _Little Brains_ , that’s for sure. It’s not very flattering.” Harry shrugs, his soft smile countering his words.

“Yeah, I agree,” Louis answers. “I never thought I would have _brain_ _envy_ , you know? And yet… Here I am, feeling pitifully jealous of my advocate and his massive forty-eight percent.” He raises his hands to either side of his head in emphasis.

Harry laughs softly and picks up a menu, but his eyes stay on Louis. “So then, let’s use our little brains and order something delicious to drink, shall we?”

Louis nods and picks up his menu, looking away from Harry long enough to mull over the options. “Ah… A _Raspberry Screamer_ ,” he says drawing out the name of the drink. “Copious amounts of vodka, raspberry liquor, orange juice, pineapple juice and a dash of cherry compote.” He raises his eyebrows at Harry, “Tasty.”

“It does not say ‘copious amounts of vodka’,” Harry laughs. “You’re teasing me, Louis.”

“I would never,” Louis responds solemnly, placing his hand over his heart for dramatic emphasis.

Harry just rolls his eyes, trying to contain a smile. “I think I’m going to have the _Belle-Luxe Banana Daiquiri_ ,” he declares, “because I love bananas and I also really like rum. So yeah, that sounds good.”

“Sound decision, then,” Louis teases.

Harry opens his mouth to speak and then bites his lip and shakes his head instead. Louis is one hundred percent a goner.

It’s strange really. They’ve only just started their very first conversation, yet Louis feels completely comfortable talking to Harry, in spite of the nervous energy that thrums through his veins. It’s like he’s speaking to someone he’s known forever and he is acutely aware that he hopes he _does_ get to know him forever. He is wholly smitten.

Kevin returns and takes their cocktail order and offers to bring out some salted peanuts and crisps to snack on while they wait for the show to start. He returns within minutes carrying a round tray loaded with the snacks and two of the biggest cocktails Louis has ever seen.

“You make these things in punchbowls, then?” Louis asks, looking at Kevin.

Kevin just smiles. “We like to keep our guests happy, sir. I think you’ll find them to be very delicious.” He sets the massive drinks on the table one at a time, and then places the two heaping bowls containing the peanuts and crisps on the table alongside two cloth napkins.

The drinks are absolutely ridiculous; the giant glasses they are served in must each hold at least a liter of liquid. Harry’s drink is thick and creamy and looks like a yellow milkshake, a green straw emerging from a palm tree that’s stuck in the center of glass. It’s garnished with a banana that is carved into the shape of monkey and it holds a bright red maraschino cherry in its tiny paws.

“How in the world did they carve a banana into a monkey?” Harry marvels. “Bananas are so soft.”

“That’s true artistry.” Louis answers, looking at his own drink. It’s served in the same gigantic fishbowl glass as is Harry’s, but Louis’ drink looks entirely different. His glass is filled with ice and the liquid within is layered by color, first purple, then red, orange and yellow, with a twirl of bright red on top, the colors reminding Louis of the sunrise he witnessed outside his hotel window when he first woke up. The drink is garnished with a huge slice of pineapple, wrapped in delicate strands of orange rind and topped with a cherry, the components held together with a colorful plastic sword. A bright red, coiled straw is wedged beside the garnish. “I’d say let’s raise our glasses in a toast, but I don’t think I could lift this thing if I tried.”

Harry giggles, “Well, we can still have a toast, yeah?” He looks at Louis sincerely and says, “Here’s to new…” He clears his throat. “To new friends.”

Louis smiles. “Cheers,” he says softly, and both men lean over at the same time to take a sip of their drinks.

“Bloody hell!”

“Holy shit!”

They look at each other and both lean over again for another long sip.

“God that’s good,” Harry sighs.

“Mine too,” Louis responds. “It tastes… It tastes like a sunrise in Paradise.” Harry smiles softly. “That’s a very poetic description, Louis,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, I’m already feeling a buzz, so I imagine my descriptions will only become more illustrative as the night goes on.”

“Very interesting,” Harry answers, the corners of his mouth turning up into a slight smirk.

They decide to try each other’s drinks and they bump shoulders as they lean toward each other to sip out of one another’s straw. Their faces are mere centimeters apart and Louis is staring at Harry’s plush lips wrapped around the red straw and all he wants to do is kiss him and feel those lips against his own. _Get it together, Tomlinson_ , he thinks to himself. He clears his throat and sits up straight instead.

“So, um. Are you a big Elvis fan?” Louis asks.

Harry tilts his head to the side before answering. “I don’t know that much about him, honestly,” he replies, his deep voice sending shivers down Louis’ spine and resonating in his toes. “I like him,” he says definitively. “My dad played him sometimes when I was a kid and I appreciate that he’s a legend and all that, but I haven’t listened to too much of him, outside of the hits, of course. How about you?”

“Yeah, I’m kind of a big fan, actually,” Louis answers shrugging his shoulders. “My Nan loved him, so I heard his music whenever I’d go visit her. I kind of grew up on him, you know?”

Harry nods his head. “That’s nice. That your Nan shared music with you, I mean.”

Louis smiles in response. “So, what brought you here then?” Louis asks. “I mean if you’re not really a fan of Elvis Presley, how did you end up at an Elvis concert?”

Harry’s eyes widen briefly and he takes in a deep breath. His face blushes pink and he stares blankly at Louis for a few seconds, his mouth opening and closing several times like a fish out of water, as if he’s trying to formulate an appropriate response. Then his face relaxes and he shrugs his shoulders, offering Louis a bashful smile.

“I might as well be honest with you,” he says and Louis raises his eyebrows in questioning. Harry continues. “Um. I _may_ have mentioned you to my advocate during our meeting. I _did_ mention you to her, in fact. But I don’t want to sound creepy!” he emphasizes, holding up his hands in defense. “I just felt…” he tugs on his bottom lip, as if searching for the right words. He takes in a breath and says in a rush, “After I saw you in reception, I just wanted to meet you and so I asked my advocate, her name is _Sam_ , by the way, to tell me who you were.”

Harry drops his hands and then begins fumbling with the straw in his drink. He looks down at his cocktail and shyly raises his eyes again to meet Louis’ own. “Anyway, she didn’t really know that much about you, except that you were working with her partner. Then, after lunch this afternoon, when I got back to my hotel I had a message from Sam that she had arranged a ticket for me to attend tonight’s concert. I didn’t have anything better to do and it sounded fun, seeing a legend perform and all that. So I came.” He lets out a breathy laugh, “And here you are.” He extends his hand and points his finger back and forth between them. “I think we were set up.”

Louis stares at Harry dumbfounded. _Harry was interested in him. Harry asked his advocate about him._ And here Louis had thought sitting in a swivel chair and watching Elvis Presley perform was going to be the best thing to happen to him tonight.

“Well, I don’t think Sam was working alone,” Louis says, shaking his head. He can feel the blush returning to his cheeks. He doesn’t think he ever blushed so much over the course of his lifetime as he has in the past ten minutes. “I _may_ have asked my advocate about _you_ , Harry. I… I wanted to meet you too.”

Harry smiles bashfully at him in response and Louis can’t contain the smile that is pulling up the corners of his own lips. He chuckles and adds, “I had lunch with my advocate and after I’d taken a bite of his gruel and been schooled on the universe, I was told that I was not staying in tonight because I had a ticket to see Elvis Presley and I better show up.” Louis can feel his grin spreading and the corners of his eyes beginning to crinkle. “Seems to me your Sam and my Marcus are working in cahoots.”

“Well how do you like that?” Harry grins.

Louis looks at Harry and feels his smile relax, his voice soft, “I like it a lot, actually.”

The two sit gawking at each other and it’s really all that Louis can do to restrain himself and not lean over and push Harry’s hair behind his ear or trace his fingers along Harry’s jaw. He cannot recall a single time in his life when he wanted so desperately to touch another human being. He’s thinking of doing that very thing when the house lights dim and the crowd in the showroom erupt in applause. The women and smattering of men in the pit at the front of the stage scream hysterically.

A line of musicians walks out on stage, the drummer sitting behind his kit, the pianist taking his place at the baby grand. The guitar players come on stage next, followed by the horn section, and then a group of backup singers comprised of eight men and women who walk over to a cluster of microphones on the right side of the stage.

The seated members of the audience begin to stand and Louis and Harry join them. A series of circular spotlights begin to swirl across the stage and the audience screams and claps in excitement. Elvis’ opening music starts, the beating of a drum, the sounds of horns and a symphony playing Richard Strauss’ “Also sprach Zarathustra”.

Harry leans over to Louis, practically shouting so he can be heard over the shrieking crowd and asks, “I’ve heard this music before. How do I know this music?”

“Ever seen the film _2001: A Space Odyssey_?” Louis half shouts in response.

Harry’s eyes widen in recognition, “Yes! I love that movie. It’s the theme music!”

Just then the tempo of the music changes and gives way to the opening horns of “See See Rider,” Elvis’ signature opener.

And then Elvis Presley appears.

Both Louis and Harry’s jaws drop in awe.

Elvis enters from the side of the stage wearing a beaded white jumpsuit, massive belt and matching cape. Louis cannot believe how good Elvis looks. Amazing really. His body is lean and strong and he has a noticeable swagger in his step. His jet black hair is slicked back in a quiff not unlike the one Louis is sporting, and his sideburns accentuate his chiseled jaw line and smooth features. He reminds Louis of an older version of someone he once knew, but Louis doesn’t really care to think about that person at the moment, so he pushes the thought out of his mind.

Elvis walks back and forth across the stage a few times, pointing out people in the crowd and doing karate moves and then he walks backwards to the center microphone, takes it in hand, and starts to sing.

 _Oh see, See See Rider_  
_Girl see, what you've done_  
_Oh, oh, oh See See Rider_  
_See what you've done now_  
_You've gone away and left me,_  
_Lord, now and now the blues have come, oh yes, they do_

Eventually, the screaming subsides and the audience begins to take their seats, and Elvis’ voice can be heard strong and clear throughout the venue. Louis looks around the showroom and scans the crowd, and sees what looks to be a sea of white tupas happily swaying to the music. The energy in the showroom is palpable. The people on the main floor in front of the stage crowd closer and reach up to try to shake Elvis’ hand and Louis cannot help but stare at him, because he’s attending a concert of a man who has been dead since long before Louis was even born and damn if he doesn’t look amazing.

“He looks really good!” Harry comments, as if he’d read Louis’ mind. “Like, I thought he was a bit heavier when he died, but he looks really fit.”

“Yeah, he looks amazing,” Louis answers, his voice betraying his admiration. “God, I hope my Nan got to see him in concert when she was here,” he says wistfully. He looks over to Harry who smiles at him in understanding.

Louis and Harry continue to sip their cocktails as Elvis performs, and they both clap and move their bodies to the beat, swiveling their chairs in time to the music. Louis cannot help but sing along to the songs he heard so many times during his lifetime. He tells Harry little bits about his Nan while Elvis sings, interjecting comments like, “Oh! Nan really loved this one, she said it reminded her of her first date,” and “We used to sing this song together in the car,” leaning close and whispering to Harry so as not to disturb those seated nearby. Or at least that’s what he tells himself, the reality is that he really just likes being close to Harry, breathing in his scent and feeling his hair tickle his face as he whispers in his perfect ear.

He’s about to share a bit of Elvis trivia when he realizes he’s been chatting throughout the entire concert and instead apologizes to Harry. “I must be boring the daylights out of you,” he says, ducking his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep droning on.”

“You could never bore me, Louis,” Harry responds, looking Louis straight in the eyes. “I want to hear everything you have to say.”

Louis feels warmth spread from his chest to his extremities, his body reacting instantly to Harry’s comment. “ _Kiss him!”_ Louis’ brain shouts, but he controls himself and the two just smile at each other instead.

Elvis introduces his next song as one of his all time favorites and the opening bars of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” begin. Louis momentarily clutches his chest before realizing what he is doing and drops his hand to his lap. He suddenly feels a bit emotional because he’s actually listening to _the_ Elvis Presley sing his favorite love song of all time, and he is listening to that song while sitting next to the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. How did he even get here? He mouths along to the lyrics, softly singing,

 _Like a river flows surely to the sea_  
_Darling, so it goes_  
_Some things are meant to be_

Harry leans over and whispers in Louis’ ear, “This song is so pretty. I don’t know a lot about Elvis, but I know this song. It’s wonderful.” Louis looks at him and Harry just stares back, the look in his eyes making Louis feel lightheaded. “I’m really glad I came here tonight, Louis,” he adds. Louis swallows and nods his head, unable to look away or properly answer.

As the song comes to a finish, Elvis pulls the gold scarf from his neck and wraps it behind the head of the woman Louis met on the tram on the way to the show. “Aw, good for her,” Louis says and laughs. He explains to Harry how he knows her and Harry actually squeezes Louis’ knee when he repeats the woman’s words from earlier, “ _Who knew I had to die for my dreams to come true.”_

Elvis performs for nearly two hours and by the end of the concert, the entire auditorium is on their feet, Louis and Harry included. They’re both more than a bit buzzed from their supersize cocktails and sing along happily to “Lost That Loving Feeling” and “Don’t Be Cruel”. When Harry messes up the lyrics, Louis just laughs and nudges him saying, “If they have iPods in Judgment City I’m going to buy you one and make you listen to Elvis’ entire catalog.”

“I don’t think capital is exchanged here,” Harry answers, grinning. He leans over to whisper in Louis’ ear, “But I’d love to listen to more music with you.” Louis is quite certain he is in heaven.

The concert comes to an end, Elvis closing his set with a rousing rendition of “American Trilogy” that reduces half of the showroom to tears. His band plays him off the stage and the music finishes. The house lights come up and a voice over the auditorium speaker system informs the concertgoers, “Elvis has left the building.”

Louis squints at the sudden brightness in the showroom, but slowly his eyes adjust as the crowd files out of the venue. He feels electric and excited and completely enamored with the man standing next to him and he doesn’t want this night to end.

“That was incredible,” he says to Harry and Harry nods his head in agreement, a grin spreading across his face.

Harry answers, “If you told me when I was alive that when I died I would go to a place where I could eat all the fattening, unhealthy food I want, and that for entertainment I could go see Elvis Presley in concert, I would have thought you were an absolute nutter.”

Louis laughs. “It’s pretty surreal, yeah?”

“Yeah, it really is,” Harry answers. “But in the best way possible.”

“Would you – ”

“Can I – ”

They both start speaking at the same time, Louis once again telling Harry that he should go first.

Harry nods and continues speaking, “Would you want to go grab something to eat, or maybe take a walk? I don’t think I want to go back to my hotel just yet.”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Louis answers, relief washing over him that he gets to spend more time with Harry.

They slowly pass through the crowds leaving the showroom, Harry being nearly a head taller than Louis and leading the way. They exit the casino and the weather is so nice that they decide to walk around the city, chatting about the concert and their favorite songs as they meander towards the foot-pavement that boarders the city streets.

“He really does a lot of karate moves when he performs, doesn’t he?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, those are kind of his signature moves,” Louis answers, doing a mini karate kick and slicing his hand through the air as if chopping through a wooden board to demonstrate his point. Harry shakes his head and chuckles in response.

“It was really fun to watch you in there. You knew all the words and you’ve got some killer dance moves.” Harry’s eyes flicker over Louis’ body and Louis catches the way they briefly linger on his arse. Harry raises his eyes to Louis’ and he clears his throat and smiles shyly, obviously aware that he has been caught admiring Louis’ bum.

Louis smiles and continues speaking as if nothing happened, denying the rush of desire he feels knowing that Harry was admiring his body. “Yeah, well, I don’t think the gallon of vodka I drank hurt when it came to letting my hair down tonight,” Louis laughs.

They stop in at a frozen yogurt stand and order dessert in carryout cups so they can continue their walk. Unsurprisingly, Louis’ chocolate swirl yogurt is one of the best things he has ever eaten and Harry gushes praise for his mango papaya blend.

They carry on a relaxed conversation as they leisurely stroll through Judgment City’s downtown district, following the signs that direct them towards the residential area and their respective hotels. As they walk, they exchange stories and personal anecdotes and get to know one another.

“Six siblings?” Harry exclaims, when the topic turns to family. “And I thought it was crowded with just my sister and my mum! I imagine growing up in a house with so many people must have been a lot of fun, though.”

“Yeah, it really was,” Louis answers. “Of course, I don’t think I ever had more than five minutes alone in the loo until the day I left for uni, privacy in general was pretty hard to come by, but still, we were all very close and we definitely had lots of laughs.”

Louis pauses, stopping in his tracks. They have approached a small park that is situated about a block from Harry’s hotel and directly across the boulevard from Louis’ own accommodations on the opposite side of the creek that divides the street.

The park is tiny, but resplendent with colorful flowerbeds, topiaries and garden sculptures. Louis points to a bench facing a beautiful koi pond and asks Harry if he wants to sit for a few minutes. Harry smiles and takes a seat and Louis sits beside him, both men turning their bodies towards one another to continue their conversation.

Louis leans his elbow on the bench’s backrest and continues on, telling Harry what it was like to be the oldest son (and oftentimes only male), in a houseful of females. After sharing a particularly funny story about styling his sister Lottie’s hair for her first formal dance, he says stoically, “I was twenty-three and out of the house when I finally got a baby brother, but I can make a French braid with the best of them.” He winks at Harry and they both laugh.

Harry tells Louis about his own family, how he, his mum, and sister were a tight-knit team who always had each other’s backs.

“When I was in secondary school, I was in a band,” Harry says, and Louis raises his eyebrows, intrigued. “We weren’t that good,” Harry laughs, “but it was a lot of fun, and I liked to sing a lot. _White Eskimo_ , we were called.” Harry rolls his eyes and whispers, “A ridiculous name,” before continuing.

“Besides being in the band, I was a bit different to start with; I liked to modify my school uniform with band Tees and colorful scarves, was into Classic literature, just… not your regular lad, you know?” Louis nods his head in understanding and Harry continues.

“So, some of the guys in my school started making fun of me for how I dressed and because I liked to sing and all that. It started to get really difficult… miserable really,” he lets out a slow sigh before continuing. “And it was kind of starting to cross over into bullying territory. One boy in particular, Jacob Hauiesen, was especially relentless.” A brief flicker of pain flashes on Harry’s face at the memory and Louis instinctively places his hand on Harry’s knee, Harry smiling softly in response.

“Anyway,” Harry continues. “I told Gemma about it and she was absolutely furious. I never saw her so angry in my life. The band had our first gig scheduled for that Friday, we were going to be playing the school dance and I told her I wasn’t going to do it, that it was going to be brutal and it wasn’t worth it.” Louis nods and gives Harry’s knee a gentle squeeze and Harry briefly brushes his fingertips over Louis’ hand in thanks. Louis feels the touch throughout his entire body.

“Well, Gemma wouldn’t hear of me quitting. She lectured me on being strong and standing up for myself and I decided she was right, that I loved singing, and I loved my mates and I was going to perform at that bloody dance regardless of whether I was made fun of for the rest of my life or not.”

“That’s the spirit,” Louis replies, grinning.

Harry smiles and nods. “Gemma was nearly four years older than me and she was just beautiful: an absolute stunner. And she had the most gorgeous group of friends you’ve ever seen.” Louis tilts his head, fully vested in Harry’s story.

“Anyway,” Harry goes on, “I show up at the gig and me and the other boys start setting up our equipment and getting ready for the show and our classmates start filing in to the gymnasium. I see the group of boys who’d been teasing me and I start to get really nervous. Our set starts and I’m singing and a crowd is starting to gather in front of the stage, but most of the audience is still a bit unsure of what to do. Should they dance and clap along, or should they lob tomatoes at us?” Louis snickers at Harry’s joke and Harry ducks his head and smiles before continuing.

“So, I’m looking around because I’m afraid Jacob and his friends are going to pull a prank or doing something worse, when I see them start to approach the stage from the left and they don’t look too kind.”

Louis’ leans in closer, completely enthralled in Harry’s story and also feeling utter outrage that anyone would ever want to bully him.

“So, my tormenters are coming in from the left and they look like they’re about to cause trouble, when suddenly, there is a commotion from the right side of the stage. The next thing I hear is the sound of cheering and singing as in marches this beautiful battalion of older girls, led by my sister, Gemma, of course.” Harry smiles warmly at the memory, placing his hand atop Louis’ where it rests on his knee before continuing. “And these gorgeous girls just group around the stage and scream and cheer like they’re at a bloody Rolling Stones concert!”

Louis opens his eyes wide in surprise and smiles. “You’re kidding me,” he exclaims and laughs, “that’s absolutely brilliant!”

“It was! It was!” Harry answers, bubbling with enthusiasm. “Only my best mate, Niall, and a few of my friends knew that the leader of the hot girl gang was my sister. Gemma and I didn’t attend the same school, so most of the people in the audience thought that White Eskimo had actual groupies. The next thing I knew, girls from _my own class_ were screaming for us and clamoring towards the stage and then the entire audience started dancing and really getting into it. By the end of our set, the crowd was screaming for an encore, which was impossible, since we only knew about six songs, but it was really fun.” Harry shakes his head and laughs softly.

“The best part is, when the show was over, I looked out over the audience and caught eyes with Jacob and he actually gave me the thumbs up sign! Can you believe it? After that night, he and his friends never picked on me again. In fact, I actually became friends with Jacob and most of his group. They turned out to be pretty nice, once they dropped the bullshit bravado.”

Louis shakes his head and looks Harry in the eyes. “Your sister sounds like an amazing person, Harry.”

Harry’s lips turn up in a soft smile. “She really is something else,” he answers, his eyes gleaming. “Oh! And she has the best sense of humor of anyone I know. She could make me laugh just by pulling a face or rolling her eyes. _Amazing_ is the perfect word to describe her.”

Louis nods and says quietly, “You’re amazing too, Harry,” and offers Harry a gentle smile. “Those boys were cruel to you. And you forgave them.” Louis lets out a huff of breath, “you became their friends even! I just… I can’t imagine what it took for you to do that.”

Harry looks down at his lap, his cheeks blushing a soft pink. “Was nothing really. They weren’t so bad, once they realized how cool I was.” He winks at Louis and they both grin at one another. He continues, his voice more serious, “I guess… I guess that I’ve always found that kindness and forgiveness are much better for the soul than anger or holding a grudge.” Louis nods his head and thinks to himself that he is the luckiest person in the universe to be sitting next to Harry on this bench.

Harry then lets out a breathy laugh. “Enough about the trauma of my youth! I had a lot more wonderful times than bad, that’s for sure. Now tell me more about _your_ friends and family, Louis.” Quieter, he adds, “I want to know everything.”

The two continue talking, exchanging stories about their childhoods, friendships and families for the next two hours. They bond over being children of divorce and their close relationships to the women in their lives, particularly their mothers. Their conversation is easy, their silences comfortable. Louis has never felt so connected to another person in his entire existence and although he’s only known Harry for a few hours, he’s quite certain he loves him.

 _Love? Pull yourself together, Tommo_ , he thinks, when he realizes what he feels for Harry. But he knows there is no going back. He’s fallen for Harry and he has no doubt that his feelings are real. What happens next is a mystery to him. But he does know that he was never so head over heels over someone during the entire course of his lifetime on Earth, as he is now for this man who was a stranger to him only yesterday.

“I can’t believe your mother had two sets of twins. She must be a saint,” Harry says, pulling Louis out of his thoughts.

Louis nods and smiles, “Yeah, she was really amazing. _Is_ really amazing.” He shakes his head in frustration. “This being dead thing is really confusing. I don’t even know what tense to use when talking about the people who were in my life.”

“I know what you mean,” Harry answers. “I’m talking about my family and friends like they are in the past tense, when in fact, _I’m_ the one who is _past_. It’s definitely a lot to take in.”

The two just look at each other in understanding, relaxing into a comfortable silence. Louis is completely lost in thought, his mind overwhelmed with the love he feels for his family and the other people that matter in his life, but mostly, he is grappling with confusion as to why he doesn’t feel _more_.

Harry hangs his arm over the bench’s backrest and looks Louis in the eye. “Your family sounds really nice,” he says, his words almost reverent in the quiet of the night.

Louis nods his head in agreement. “They were everything to me,” he responds. “Which is why it’s so confusing to think about them now.” Harry nods his head.

“You’re wondering why you don’t feel sad. Why you don’t miss them more?” Harry replies, and Louis marvels that Harry has voiced exactly what he is thinking.

“Yes!” Louis answers. “My sisters, my little brother…” His voice starts to taper off and he adds softly, “My mum.” He lets out a long breath. “I just don’t understand why I’m not curled up in a ball somewhere crying my heart out over them.”

Harry smiles knowingly and he reaches his hand over and gently squeezes Louis’ shoulder. Louis feels warmth radiating from the spot Harry touched and is momentarily distracted by this simple act.

“Whenever I think about them, all I feel is happiness. All I can think about is how much I love them. I get brief flickers of sadness, most mostly, I feel at peace, which is so strange because I know that their hearts must be breaking right now. It’s like, I know I should feel terribly sad, but I have this… This absolute sense that they’re going to be okay. Isn’t that strange?”

Harry looks at him and smiles, shaking his head. “No, it’s not strange, Louis. It’s not strange at all. I was confused about the same thing. My mum and my sister,” Harry lets out a breath and takes a moment to articulate his thoughts. “My mum and sister,” he continues, “they are the most important people in my life. My sister, Gemma, she’s my best friend. Besides my best mate, Niall, I mean. When I woke up this morning and thought about them, all I felt was love for them and I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t falling apart.”

Louis nods his head rapidly. “Yeah. I totally get it. Like, I don’t understand why I don’t feel absolutely crushed about being so permanently separated from my family. And Liam,” he adds, “He’s my best mate. Stood by me through thick and thin and he was the very last person I spoke to before…” Louis takes a breath and shakes his head. He looks into Harry’s eyes and sees kindness and sympathy in return. “He was with me until the very end. Why don’t I feel sad when I think about him?” His voice barely above a whisper, Louis adds, “I know how much he must be hurting right now.”

Harry reaches over and takes Louis’ left hand in his own and gives it a gentle squeeze. Louis is at first shocked by the gesture; this simple act of kindness and knowing almost overwhelming to him, not to mention the fact that Harry’s touch causes electricity to spark through his body, his emotions utterly conflicted. But then he squeezes Harry’s hand in return, their eyes locked on one another as they just share the moment.

Harry clears his throat and speaks. “Do you know what Sam told me?” Louis shakes his head. “She told me that grief and suffering are for the Earth. But where we are now,” he taps the top of the bench’s backrest and then holds his hands out, swirling his finger and gesturing to their surroundings, “this place. It’s for reflection and growth. She told me that we couldn’t examine our lives properly if we were bogged down by the earthly sorrow of death, and so we don’t have to endure it here. And this isn’t a permanent separation, Louis. Life on earth is so short. We’ll see the people we love again, eventually.”

Louis nods his head and feels relief wash over him at the clarity he feels because of Harry’s words, “That makes sense,” he replies. And it does. A part of Louis knew that the reason he hasn’t been grieving his family and friends is because he has work to do, but hearing Harry describe it to him in such a lovely manner makes him feel instantly better about everything. He lets out a long breath. “I haven’t talked to Marcus yet on anything deeper than the Review or the tupas, but I’m sure he’d tell me the same thing.”

“Wait a minute,” Harry says, holding up his hands, his mouth turned up in surprise. “Are you saying that you know why we’re wearing these ridiculous garments?” He grabs at the collar of his tupa and pulls it to the side and Louis catches a glimpse of tattooed skin. “I feel like a member of a deranged religious cult.”

Louis snorts out a laugh, the mood suddenly lightened. “That was my thought exactly!” he exclaims, Harry chuckling in response. “But it’s sort of the same thing as what you were saying about grief. We can’t focus on examining our lives or moving ahead if we are worried about what clothes to wear. These tupas really take the pressure off.”

“Well,” Harry replies, “this isn’t exactly how I dressed on earth, but I’ve never worn anything more comfortable.” He looks down at his hand, still joined with Louis’ and squeezes Louis’ again, adding, “and I’ve never imagined that a garment so simple could look so amazing on another person.”

Louis can feel the flush spreading across his cheeks and he looks down briefly before again meeting Harry’s eyes. “I could say the same thing,” he responds, “you’d make a trash bag look good.” He then slaps his hand over his mouth and shakes his head. “I can’t believe I said that out loud,” he says, rolling his eyes and grinning.

Harry barks out a loud laugh, “Well, I appreciate you saying it, even though I’m not sure I could actually pull off that look.” He looks at Louis and his rich voice washes over him as he says, “I feel really comfortable with you, Louis. I hope you feel the same.”

Louis smiles. “I do, Harry. I honestly do.” His eyes trace over Harry’s face and as he takes in Harry’s green eyes and pink lips, he feels heat pulling in his belly. Harry’s expression turns soft, almost serious, but the corners of his lips turn upwards playfully. He raises an eyebrow, almost as a dare. Louis knows this his chance and he leans forward just the slightest bit. “I really like you, Harry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I really like you too, Louis,” Harry replies, his voice just as quiet, but smooth and deep. Harry leans in just a fraction and licks his tongue over his lower lip, his eyes flickering back and forth between Louis’ eyes and mouth. “I like you a lot,” he adds, his voice barely audible.

Louis leans in closer. He can feel Harry’s breath on his lips, his mouth watering in anticipation of tasting Harry’s lips against his own. He closes his eyes, draws in a breath, and prepares to bring his lips to Harry’s –

“Mr. Tomlinson! Is that you?”

Louis jerks his head back just as Harry does the same, their eyes wide and staring at one another in surprise. Harry’s mouth has fallen slightly open and Louis silently curses the universe for denying him the chance to experience that mouth on his own.

The voice calls again, it’s decidedly female, and despite the utter intrusion it has caused, Louis finds it to be almost soothing and most definitely friendly. He stands from the bench and looks around to see who is calling to him.

Walking across the cobblestone pathway that leads to the koi pond is a beautiful woman with pale skin and long red hair. She is dressed smartly in white capris pants and a sleeveless white turtleneck, a forest green cashmere shawl wrapped around her shoulders that brings out her hazel eyes and compliments her flowing auburn tresses. Her arms are intertwined with a handsome man with salt and pepper hair, dressed in dark denim jeans, a white polo shirt and blue blazer. They make a striking couple. Louis tilts his head and stares at her, his brain racing to figure out how he knows her, because she seems so eerily familiar.

As the woman and her companion get closer, Harry stands beside Louis and whispers in his ear, “Do you know her?”

“Yeah,” Louis responds, nodding his head. “I’m quite certain I do. I just have no idea _how_ I know her.”

The woman and her companion reach the spot where Louis and Harry are standing and she smiles happily at Louis. Louis feels an instant fondness in response, though he is completely baffled as to why. “It’s okay, Mr. Tomlinson,” she says, her friendly voice drawing a slight smile from Louis. “I’m quite certain you don’t remember me, but I remember you. My name is Beatrice. I was your Intake nurse when you arrived in Judgment City.”

Suddenly, flashes of memory flood into Louis’ brain. He hears Beatrice’s voice behind him as she pushes his wheelchair down a long corridor. He remembers Beatrice helping him to stand from his wheelchair and encouraging him as he took uneasy steps to the tram that would take him to his hotel. He smiles at her warmly. “Oh my god,” he says, “I do remember you!”

“Well, I’m not surprised! You’re quite a smart one,” she says, tapping her temple with her index finger. She looks over to the man whose arm she clutches. “Mr. Tomlinson here said his first word before even stepping foot on the tram, much less having his first night’s sleep. Can you believe it?”

The man raises his eyebrows in response and utters “Wow,” clearly surprised.

A bit more fog lifts over the memory of Louis’ intake and his mind returns to the moment he muttered that single word to Beatrice. He remembers that she was genuinely proud of him at the time and still is, it appears.

Beatrice claps her hands, interrupting Louis’ thoughts and exclaims excitedly, “Oh! I’m being so rude! Mr. Tomlinson, this is my partner, Jeremy. Jeremy, Louis Tomlinson.” The two men smile and shake hands and then Louis introduces Beatrice and Jeremy to Harry.

“This is my Harr – ” Louis cuts himself off. “Um... I mean. This is my _friend_ , Harry Styles.” Harry grins at Louis, his dimple popping and a slight blush appearing on his cheeks as he shakes Beatrice and Jeremy’s hands.

Beatrice squints her eyes and looks Harry up and down, taking him in. She cocks her head to the side and opens her mouth as if she is about to say something and then closes it again, deep in thought. Louis and Harry look at each other unsure of what is happening and then Beatrice looks back and forth between the two of them, pursing her lips as if figuring out a difficult equation. She then nods her head, her lips quirking upwards as she whispers, “Oh yes!” before offering both men a wide and sincere smile.

“Everything alright?” Louis asks, genuinely perplexed.

“Yes! Yes! Of course!” Beatrice answers and she looks as if she knows a huge secret that she is positively bursting to share. “It’s just a very small world, is all,” she says softly, winking at Louis. Louis doesn’t quite understand what she is referring to, but he smiles anyway. The four chitchat for a minute or so and then Beatrice informs Louis that she and Jeremy have to be on their way, but before she goes she leans over and whispers in Louis’ ear, speaking so quietly that only he alone can hear.

“Some things are very special, Louis,” she says, and she takes his elbow in her hand, squeezing it softly. “Sacred even.” Louis pulls his face away and looks at her, raising his eyebrows in questioning, but before he can say anything, she is tugging him back close, her mouth once again pressed to his ear. “The Intake Center is number eight on the courtesy phones. Just ask for Beatrice. If I’m not working, ask for Meghie or Randall. One of us is always working and we’re always here to help you.”

She pulls her face away from Louis’ ear and looks him straight in the eye. “I wish you all the luck in the universe, Louis,” she says sincerely, her voice its normal speaking tone. She smiles and kisses both of his cheeks and then looks over at Harry and does the same. “You two gentlemen enjoy the rest of your evening.” She takes Jeremy’s hand and the two walk back down the cobblestone path and out of the park, leaving Louis and Harry standing by the bench, dumbfounded.

Harry looks at Louis and lets out a low laugh. “What was that about?” he asks, his brows furrowed, his face confused.

“I’ve no idea, actually,” Louis responds honestly. “But she’s a lovely person, isn’t she?” He looks at Harry and Harry smiles and nods his head.

Louis suddenly feels nervous. He was on the verge of kissing Harry before Beatrice showed up and now the moment has passed, the mood has changed and Louis thinks he’s missed his chance, even though the desire to kiss Harry is still ever present. “Um. It’s probably getting late,” he says, and he wants to kick himself for losing his nerve. “Can I walk you back to your hotel?”

“Yeah sure, of course,” Harry answers, a hit of a smile playing on his lips. He draws in a deep breath and adds, “That would be really nice, Louis. Thank you.”

The two follow the cobblestone path out of the park and turn back onto the foot-pavement, making their way towards Harry’s hotel.

“So, um, what word did you say? To Beatrice, I mean?” Harry asks as they walk, their steps decidedly slow, both intent on drawing out the night a little bit longer.

“Where.” Louis responds.

“Oh! I’m not being clear,” Harry smiles. “At the tram. Beatrice mentioned you said a word before you got on the tram, even before you had your first night’s rest and she seemed so proud. So I was just wondering what that word was. I’m sorry if I’m being nosy. I’m just curious to know more about you.”

Louis’ face splits into a wide grin and his heart feels full of wonder at the beautiful creature standing before him. “No, no, Harry,” he answers fondly, pointing at his own chest. “ _I’m_ the one who is not being clear. The word I said to Beatrice was _where_. I was utterly confused and had no idea where I was, and the only word I could choke out was ‘where’.”

Harry throws his head back and laughs and then nudges Louis’ shoulder with his own. “We almost got into a round of _Whose on First_ for a minute there, didn’t we?”

Louis looks back at him and chuckles, “Yeah. We sure did.”

They arrive at Harry’s hotel, The Ambassador. It’s a bit smaller than Louis’ hotel and significantly smaller than the other two hotels on the boulevard, but what it lacks in size, it makes up for in pure style. The building is an art deco structure with smooth-faced stone façade and the occasional curved ornamental element. Opaque, plate glass windows run in rows towards the top of the building, each window outlined with elegant etched linear detailing. The double doors that lead into the building are huge and covered in a sea-blue-hued glass that boasts the same etching as the windows to the guest rooms. Two men, dressed in smart black suits adorned with bow-ties the exact shade of blue as the window glass, stand at each door and as Louis and Harry walk up the curved driveway to the hotel’s entrance, they each pull a door open and simultaneously offer a friendly, “Good evening, gentlemen.”

Louis raises an eyebrow at Harry and says, “Impressive,” a teasing grin spreading across his face.

Harry rolls his eyes, trying to contain his grin and shrugs in return. “Um. Can we have a minute?” he asks the men. “I’m not quite ready to come inside.”

“Of course!” the first man exclaims.

“Absolutely, sir!” chimes in the second. “We’ll give you your privacy” and the two men step into the hotel, closing the doors behind them.

“Well, well, well,” Louis laughs. “Aren’t your accommodations posh? I thought my hotel was top of the line, but compared to all this,” he swirls his hands in front of himself and then opens them outwards, “it seems a bit dowdy.”

Harry ducks his head and grins. “It’s a nice hotel, yeah. And the people here are really nice. Of course, I’ve yet to meet anyone who _isn’t_ nice, but, yeah...” he looks Louis in the eye and steps closer to him. “The people here are really nice,” he repeats quietly.

“I want to see you again,” Louis blurts out before he can even think to stop himself. “I mean, if you want to see me, that is. Maybe we can have dinner tomorrow night?” He feels nervous energy circulating through his body and he bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, trying to calm himself.

Harry nods his head as if saying yes, but then answers, “No.” Louis’ eyes momentarily open wide and he feels his heart drop to his feet, crestfallen. “Wait! I mean, ‘Yes!’” Harry cries, and he reaches out to Louis, grasping Louis’ forearms in either hand. “Yes,” he says softer, yet firm. “I do want to see you again. I just can’t meet you for dinner tomorrow night because Sam invited me to a cocktail party at her house and I’ve already accepted. I never would have told her I’d come though, if I had known…” and his voice trails off, dropping to barely above a whisper, “If I’d known I could spend time with you instead.”

And just like that, Louis’ heart bounces off his feet and finds its way back to its chest, its rhythm quickening. “Well, maybe lunch then? Marcus told me there would be a morning session and then a two-hour lunch recess before the afternoon session starts. We’ll both be at the Review Center, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to meet up.”

“That would be really great, Louis,” Harry answers and he lets his hands slide down Louis’ wrists, taking Louis’ hands in his own. He gives them a slight squeeze before slowly letting go. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Almost as if on cue, the two doormen return and hold the doors open for Harry. “My hotel is number one on the courtesy phones, Louis.” He steps back from Louis and walks backwards toward the doors.

Louis grins and holds up two fingers, “Mine is two.” He clears his throat and then adds, “Marcus told me his firm pretty much keeps to the same Review schedule, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find you at the Center.”

Harry nods and takes another step back, his body now bridging the entrance, the two doormen looking at him amusedly. He lifts his hand to waive and a dopey grin spreads across his face, his dimple on full display. “Goodnight Louis. I had a great time.”

Louis just stands there smiling. He raises his hand to wave back and Harry takes another step further inside. The doormen look between Harry and Louis and then slowly pull the doors shut and Harry disappears from view. Louis draws a deep breath and turns towards his own hotel. “ _Utterly head over heels_ ,” he mumbles to himself, smiling as he makes his way.


	5. Locking it in Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! - There is brief mention in this chapter of corporal punishment, specifically spanking a child with a belt.

Louis practically floats back to his hotel, his spirits high, his body buzzing, and his mind completely preoccupied with thoughts of Harry. _It was literally a perfect evening_ , Louis thinks to himself, and even though he missed his chance at kissing Harry, he feels quite certain he’ll have another.

Louis passes Donald in the lobby as he makes his ways to the lift and Louis can only grin and answer, “It was everything,” when Donald asks if he enjoyed his evening.

He returns to his room and kicks off his shoes, tossing them in the cupboard and then stripping off his tupa and throwing it into the sleek metal hamper that sits just inside the door to his en suite. He decides to try out the bedclothes and pulls a pair of pajama trousers out of the chest of drawers, stepping into them and positioning the waistband to sit low on his hips. They are the most comfortable pair of pajama bottoms he has ever worn, so he throws on the matching T-shirt for good measure. He is not disappointed.

After admiring the breathtaking nighttime view of Judgment City’s skyline through his wall-to-wall window overlooking the city, Louis walks over to his bed, which has been neatly made, the duvet folded back at an angle to allow him to easily slide beneath the covers, and notices the small box of chocolates that rest on his pillow. He opens the box and pops a chocolate into his mouth and his eyes fall immediately shut and he lets out a moan. “Why did I think this would be anything less than perfection?” he says aloud and then eats the remaining piece.

It’s then that Louis notices the items on his nightstand. Sitting in front of the lamp is a rectangular shaped box covered in green silk. Next to the box is the same type of envelope he found beneath his door that morning and he immediately suspects it contains a note from Donald.

He is correct.

He pulls the note from the envelope and reads the words written in Donald’s elegant script.

 

_Good Evening, Louis!_

_I hope you enjoyed the Elvis concert and were able to spend some time exploring our fine city. It’s simply spectacular at night!_

_Mr. Diamond asks that you report to the Review Center at 9 AM sharp so that he can speak to you before your Review begins at 9:30. You are to meet him in Review Room 4604 (on the 46 th floor). I’ve arranged a wake-up call for you at 7:30 and you’ll need to be in the lobby by 8:30 AM to catch the tram to the Center. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering breakfast for you and it will be delivered to your room as soon as you’ve showered._

_As you’ll need to monitor your Review schedule from here on out, a wristwatch has been provided for you and can be found in the satin box on your nightstand._

_As always, please feel free to call if you need anything._

_Have a peaceful night’s rest,_

_Donald_

Louis opens the satin box and his jaw drops and he lets out an audible gasp when he finds a sleek Rolex wristwatch in elegant ivory-colored adonized steel contained within. The watch has an emerald green face and the numbers 3, 6, and 9, as well as the dash marks that represent the remaining numerals and minute increments are the same ivory hue as the watch’s banding. The hour, minute and second hands are a bright kelly green. It’s without a doubt the most beautiful wristwatch Louis has ever seen.

“My god,” he utters softly in disbelief, shaking his head and running his fingers through his hair. “Didn’t know they carried Rolexes in the Afterlife. This place is absolutely unbelievable.”

He carefully closes the lid to the watch box and heads to the en suite to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. It’s only when he returns that he notices the flashing red light on his bedside phone. He looks over and comfortably reads the word _Voicemail_ that is inscribed on the phone’s receiver, directly beside the light, when it suddenly occurs to him that he no longer needs the eyeglasses and contact lenses he’s depended on since childhood to see clearly. He’d been so preoccupied with all of the new things he had been experiencing, most of all Harry, that he had failed to notice that his vision is now perfect.

“Chalk another miracle up to the Afterlife,” he sighs happily, as he lifts the phone’s handset off the receiver. He presses the Voicemail button and feels a rush of electricity zip through his body when he hears Harry’s slow drawl emitted through the phone’s earpiece.

“Hi Louis, it’s Harry. But I imagine you know that.” Louis can hear Harry let out a quiet laugh and can practically feel his smile through the phone line. “I just wanted to call and tell you that I had a wonderful time with you tonight. _You’re_ wonderful, in fact.” There is a pause and Louis feels his heartbeat quicken in his chest. Harry continues, “You just left to return to your hotel and I already miss you. I would think this is a strange development, considering we just met, but it doesn’t feel strange at all. It just feels… _right_.” Harry lets out a sigh and chuckles softly. “Well, I guess I’ve just made my feelings for you pretty obvious.” Louis cannot contain the grin that spreads across his face at Harry’s words. “Anyway, I’m looking forward to our lunch date tomorrow. So, I’ll see you then.” There is another brief pause and then Harry whispers, “Goodnight, Louis. Sleep well.”

Louis shuts off the bedside lamp and climbs into bed, burrowing beneath the covers. He lies back against his pillow and reaches over to the telephone, pushing the Voicemail button again. He listens to Harry’s message four more times before going to sleep.

 

*****

           

After only two days in Judgment City, Louis finds that his morning feels almost routine. He awakens to colorful hues of light streaming across his face; the window curtains left open the evening before. Unlike the previous morning however, when he was still in a post-death exhaustion phase, this morning he feels completely rested and alert when he opens his eyes. He spreads out his arms and twists his body from side to side, stretching his torso and legs. He’s about to climb out of bed, quite pleased with himself for beating his wake-up call, when his phone rings, Donald informing him that it is 7:30 and that he’ll send his breakfast up in twenty minutes, giving Louis plenty of time to shower.

Louis climbs out of bed and is about to head to the en suite when he turns and faces his nightstand, deciding to give Harry’s message from the night before another listen. He holds the phone up to his ear and presses the Voicemail button, feeling a tingling sensation throughout his body as Harry’s slow, deep voice washes over him, his body instantly reacting to the sound of Harry’s soft whisper, “Sleep well.”

“Fuck,” Louis says, hanging up the phone and bee-lining to the en suite, having every intention of giving his body the pleasure he denied himself the previous morning. He quickly strips naked and then steps into the shower and turns on a hot, pulsating spray, facing in the opposite direction of the stream and closing his eyes as the water pounds onto the back of his head and neck.

“Fuck,” he says again, Harry’s perfect face and long lean body his only thoughts as he steps forward and allows the spray to hit his shoulders and run down his back, gathering in the swell at the top of his bum and then falling to the shower floor. He reaches between his legs and gently grabs the base of his cock, giving it a soft squeeze.

Thoughts of Harry and the moment he almost kissed his full lips flood his brain and he reaches out his left hand, resting his palm flat on the grey tile of the shower wall while his right hand encircles his shaft and he once again gives another slow pull.

Louis lets out a breathy sigh as he feels his semi-alert dick come fully to life, hardening in his hand. He holds himself gently, brushing his fingertips down the length of his shaft while he imagines his lips pressing against Harry’s, Harry’s warm tongue flickering against his own, and it’s then that he squeezes tighter: giving in to the feeling and letting himself go.

Louis runs his hand repeatedly from the root of his dick to the very tip, his fingers curling around his cock and twisting, the tips of his fingers reaching to brush his balls at the end of every downward stroke. He bites his lip and lets out a soft moan as he pulls his foreskin back and thumbs the head of his cock, dragging the soft pad of his thumb over his slit and swiping through the beaded precome. The sensation is overwhelming and he throws his head back and lets out a louder groan.

Louis has whacked off before. _Dear God_ , he thinks, _probably a million times._ But never, ever has it felt like this. His body is electric. He feels his blood zipping through every inch of his being. He follows its flow from the base of his toes, shooting up his calves and thighs, rushing higher up his torso and expanding across his chest. His blood flows down his arms and then back up to his shoulders and pumps into his neck and head before making its decent back down to his feet, stopping along the way to course through the throbbing cock he grips in his moving hand. “Fuck me,” he mumbles and lets out a choppy breath, turning his body to rest his forehead on the shower wall.

His mind goes blank, all thoughts forgotten except for glowing green eyes and raspberry lips that curl up in a soft smile. “Harry,” he moans as he tugs harder, his stomach giving way to a pulling sensation that causes his groin to quiver.

He speeds up his pace, the water from the shower spray making both his palm and cock slick, and he glides his hand furiously up and down his shaft as he removes his left hand from the shower wall and slips it behind his back, slowly gliding his index finger between his cheeks and stuttering out a low whimper as it slides over his rim. His breath quickens and becomes heavy and he closes his eyes and just concentrates on the _feeling_.

The funny thing is, he’s not even really imagining anything overtly sexual: just his mouth on Harry’s, their tongues sliding together, their lips pressing against each other in repeated wet kisses, and that’s all that it takes. Two quicker tugs and Louis feels the heat that has been pulling in his belly release, his groin tightening and his dick rock hard in his hand. He lets out a gasp of breath and comes: white ribbons shooting over the top of his hand and splattering on the shower wall. He continues to pull himself through his orgasm, easing his touch as his body fully climaxes and then dropping his hand entirely when the last drops spill and he feels his dick become hypersensitive.

“Fucking hell,” he whimpers as he lolls his forehead back and forth against the slate tile. “What is even happening to me?”

It takes Louis a full three minutes of panting against the wall of the shower until he is recovered enough to actually stand fully upright and bathe, his limbs limp, his body languid. He directs the shower nozzle so that the spraying water rinses the remnants of his come off the shower wall and down the drain, and then he removes the vanilla-honey soap from its place on the recessed shelf and rubs it over his body, scrubbing himself clean with a soft flannel and being extra careful around his sensitive cock. After washing his hair and rinsing off, he turns off the spray and takes in a few deep breaths, still not quite recovered from his Harry-induced orgasm.

After his shower, Louis shaves his face clean and dries his hair, styling it into a soft fringe. He’s just pulled on The Regency’s complimentary bathrobe when there is a knock at his door, heralding the arrival of his morning meal. A friendly female bellhop delivers his food and Louis is only a little disappointed at not getting to chat with Donald while he eats his breakfast and gets ready for his Review. _I really like that bloke_ , he thinks.

Louis realizes he has met a lot of people he likes since his departure from Earth. Donald has proven to be quite friendly and helpful and he decides right then and there that he’ll invite him out to have a beer, maybe even later this evening. Marcus, of course, is brilliant and quick-witted, and behind his sophisticated, slightly-cocky façade is a man who is genuinely kind and Louis has an easy banter with him. If he thought he ever could have a friend in the Afterlife as important to him as Liam was on Earth, Louis is sure that that friend could be Marcus, if given a chance. Then, there is Harry. Louis wouldn’t classify Harry as simply a friend exactly. _Love of a fucking lifetime_ , he thinks and then draws in a breath, surprised. How could he feel such intense feelings for someone he has literally just met? _It doesn’t matter_ , he decides. He’s crazy about Harry and that’s that.

He carefully wheels the cart loaded with his breakfast over to his room’s sitting area and spreads the dishes, cups and utensils out on the coffee table, flipping on the television as he sits down. The screen comes to life and Louis watches _Good Morning, Judgment City_ as he eats. The program is not unlike any other morning chat show Louis happened to catch while on earth; the hosts are enthusiastic and perfectly coiffed, the topics ranging from the ever-sunny weather and sports, to cooking segments and human interest stories about Intakes enjoying the various attractions of Judgment City.

Louis’ breakfast, on the other hand, _is_ unlike anything he has ever experienced on earth. It’s absolutely phenomenal, as Louis has now come to expect. “Well done, Donald,” Louis sighs, as he swallows a mouthful of Eggs Benedict, the creamy texture of the eggs contrasted by the sharp bite of paper-thin slices of bright pink salmon. It’s drizzled in hollandaise sauce and served with a buttery English muffin, tart pears, and a slab of salty ham. Louis washes it all down with piping hot tea and a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, the satisfaction derived from one meal almost awe-inspiring.

After breakfast, Louis brushes his teeth and dresses in a tupa, taking extra care to give his appearance a thorough once-over in the mirror, as he’ll be meeting Harry later in the day for lunch. After donning his shoes, he walks over to his nightstand and opens the green satin box, carefully removing the ivory colored Rolex and fastening it over his wrist, and admiring the beauty of the timepiece. He holds his arm away from his body, examining the watch before pulling it back a bit and sighing as he realizes the color of the watch face reminds him of Harry’s eyes.

“Bloody hell, Tommo,” he mumbles out loud, suddenly aware that his Review will be starting in a little over an hour and his mind is completely preoccupied with Harry Styles. “You’re totally fucked.”

He lets out a sigh and checks the time, noting he has six minutes to get it to the lobby to catch the tram to the Review Center. Once again, he surveys the room, looking for an elusive wallet and cell phone that don’t exist in this realm, shaking his head when he realizes that his wristwatch is the only thing he needs and he heads out of his room, gently shutting the door behind him and then making his way to the bank of lifts. He arrives just as a set of lift doors are opening, the light above indicating that the lift is headed down.

Louis steps onto the lift and is joined by two men and a woman, all wearing tupas and all looking very familiar. The four strangers survey each other confusedly as the lift doors close and then it dawns on Louis how he knows them.

He clears his throat, looks around the lift car and begins to speak. “I think we’ve all been introduced before,” he says, his voice just a bit unsure. “We all arrived here together on the tram. We rode the lift up to our rooms together on our first night here in Judgment City.” Recognition dawns on the others’ faces and they begin to nod their heads in agreement. Louis points to the woman, an older lady with grey hair and a soft smile. “Your name is Margaret, isn’t it, love?”

“Yes! Yes!” Margaret exclaims, happy at being recognized. “I was so out of it when I first got here, I could barely walk, much less register any faces. But now that you mention it, you’re all so familiar to me.” The other two men and Louis nod in response. The two men introduce themselves as Rowan and Peter and by the time they reach the hotel lobby, the foursome discover they will all be riding to the Review Center on the same tram, although none of them are working with the same advocate firms. Donald meets them at the hotel’s main entrance, wishing them all well for their first day of Review as they exit the hotel together, just as the designated tram is pulling into the semicircular drive.

A small crowd of tupa-clad Intakes has already gathered in front of the hotel and Louis’ surmises that the tram will be quite full as he watches the people form an orderly line in front of the tram’s open door and start to climb aboard. As Louis steps up onto the tram’s platform, he does a quick survey of the seated passengers, looking for Nellie, the sweet cat lady he had met the day before. She is nowhere to be seen and Louis guesses that she must have completed her Review and has either moved forward in the universe or is someone’s newborn baby somewhere on Earth. He shakes his head at the realization; _this entire experience is just so surreal_.

Louis takes a seat near the back of the tram and is joined by Rowan from the lift: a heavyset man who appears to be in his mid-fifties, his brown hair liberally peppered with flecks of grey. Rowan gives Louis a onceover, sizing him up as they get comfortable in their seats and then leans over and asks him with a grin, “So, how many days are you looking at?”

Louis furrows his eyebrows, perplexed. “Excuse me?” he replies.

“How many _days_ ,” Rowan emphasizes, stretching out the last word. “ _For your Review._ How many days are you looking at?”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” Louis answers, completely confused.

“Oh! Your advocate didn’t tell you then, how it all works?” Rowan asks, his enthusiasm growing and his mouth expanding into a broad smile. Louis tilts his head in response.

“Well, he told me we would be looking at my life, but we didn’t get into too much detail. I don’t really understand what you mean by ‘How many days?’”

“Oh. Right!” Rowan nods his head and his face becomes more serious. “Well, they don’t look at every day in your life during your Review, just a handful of them. But not everyone has the same number. For instance, my advocate tells me that we’re looking at ten days of my life, which seems a bit high when you compare that to old Peter here.” He taps the shoulder of Peter, who is seated directly in front of him, and Peter turns around and smiles. “How many days are you looking at again, Peter? Couldn't believe it when he told me in the lobby,” Rowan marvels.

“Six,” Peter answers, smiling warmly at Louis. Of the four from Louis’ group from the lift, Peter is by far the oldest. He has to be at least in his early eighties, although he looks quite strong and handsome for someone of his advanced years. “But don’t get too caught up on the numbers, dear boy, none of that matters. What matters is how you lived your life. Did you take chances?” Peter asks softly, tilting his head as he continues, “Were you brave? Were you kind? Those… those are the things that matter.” Louis nods his head, comforted by Peter’s words.

Rowan leans over and whispers in Louis’ ear, “I don’t care what anyone says, I know for a fact that the more days you’re looking at, the bigger the chance you’re gonna get sent back to Earth.” Rowan swirls his finger in the air. “You know. To do the whole _life_ thing over again.”

Louis pulls away from Rowan and looks him in the eyes, responding sincerely, “I don’t know anything about _anything_ that goes on here.” He grins softly and continues, “And that’s the only thing I _know_ for a fact.” Rowan shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head in response.

Louis changes the subject and he and Rowan discuss the food of Judgment City for the rest of the ride to the Review Center, Rowan making him promise that he will try the Italian Restaurant _Casa Nostra_ at some point during his stay as the pasta Alfredo is “better than the best orgasm you’ve ever had.” Louis raises his eyebrows and laughs, thinking to himself that it would hardly be possible for a pasta dish to beat the first, post-death orgasm that he experienced in the shower less than an hour ago.

The tram continues along its route, Louis marveling at the beautiful scenery as it passes by his window. After making four or five stops and letting off passengers at various advocate centers, the tram pulls in front of the Review Center and parks, the driver announcing the tram has reached its final destination. Louis looks at his wristwatch and it reads 8:47 AM. He steps off the tram with the remaining Intakes and gapes at the building in front of him.

The Review Center is by far the largest, and most elegant building in all of Judgment City. It stands 75 stories tall and boasts a curved façade covered in a mirror-like surface that reflects the surrounding buildings and landscapes, as well as the soft round clouds and bright blue sky. The entranceway is quite grand, with at least a dozen sets of automatic doors positioned side by side that lead into a sweeping lobby boasting a modern design, the walls adorned with huge glass mosaic murals, the ceiling measuring at least fifteen meters in height and bedecked with brightly colored Chihuly-style chandeliers. Seating areas are carefully arranged throughout the massive lobby and dozens and dozens of men and women mill about, many dressed in tupas, others dressed in beautiful business suits, the latter Louis assumes to be advocates or at least employees of the Center. The lobby is bustling with energy and Louis feels a combination of excitement and nervousness as he takes in his surroundings.

There is no formal reception area, but throughout the lobby male and female attendants dressed in cream-colored suits with fresh red roses pinned to their lapels are walking about, assisting Intakes. They wear wireless earpieces and hold iPad tablets, the screens displaying what appears to be lists comprised of strange characters Louis does not recognize. He approaches one of the attendants, a short, redheaded man whose brass nametag displays the name, _Ed_.

“Excuse me,” Louis says, clearing his throat. “I know my Review Room number is 4604, but I’m not quite sure how to get there.”

Ed smiles at Louis. “Well, I’ll be happy to assist you then,” he says, as he types something into his iPad. “Mr. Tomlinson?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Louis answers.

“You’re going to want to head to the bank of lifts on the far right of the lobby. If you take the lifts to the left, you’ll end up on the opposite side of the building and it will take you forever to find your room,” he says, bouncing on the heels of his feet and rolling his eyes while a friendly grin spreads across his face. Louis likes Ed immediately. “Look for the set of lifts marked _Floors 30 – 50_ and take one of those. They’ll save you the hassle of stopping at all the lower floors on your way up to your meeting room.”

Louis shakes Ed’s hand and thanks him for his help and heads off in the direction Ed has pointed out to him, walking across the huge lobby to the right until he comes to a bank of at least twenty lifts, all labeled with sections of floors the lifts apparently cover. Directly between two sets of lifts marked _Floors 15 – 30_ and _Floors 50 - 75_ , Louis finds the set of three lifts Ed mentioned marked _Floors 30 – 50_. A small group of people dressed in tupas and suits are gathered in front of the lifts and Louis watches as an indicator light counts down the floors as the first lift makes its descent to the lobby. The light has just flashed _Floor 12_ , indicating the lift is soon approaching when Louis feels a tap on his shoulder.

He turns around and comes face to face with Harry, who smiles at him sheepishly and says, “Good morning, Louis,” in the same sexy whisper that he used when wishing Louis goodnight on the voicemail message he left the evening before.

Louis’ face splits into a wide grin and he instinctively reaches out to hug Harry, but then catches himself and freezes, embarrassed that he is being so forward. Harry just smiles wider and pulls Louis into a hug of his own and Louis spreads his hands across Harry’s broad back, returning the gesture. He feels warm and completely safe in Harry’s arms and the feeling of being pressed up against his body is utterly indescribable. Louis doesn’t want to let go.

“Well, good morning to you, Harry,” Louis whispers as they reluctantly pull apart, the two grinning at each other like ridiculous fools. “Fancy meeting you here,” he says, raising his eyebrows suggestively. He immediately feels a rush of heat spread across his cheeks. “That was lame,” he grins, shaking his head. “I sound like an idiot.”

Harry just smiles and leans close so that he and Louis’ faces are mere centimeters apart. “You don’t sound like an idiot, Louis,” he says with a smile. “I hope _I_ didn’t sound like an idiot. Last night, I mean.”

Louis raises his eyebrows in question and Harry smiles shyly and continues. “You wouldn’t believe how embarrassed I was when I accidentally hit _send_ on the voicemail I sent you last night. I was only on my second practice run and am quite certain I sounded like an utter stalker.” He lowers his voice and adds, “My greatest hope right now is that I haven’t scared you off.”

Louis raises his eyebrows in surprise and then shakes his head slowly. “Not possible, Styles,” he says. “Not possible in a million years.”

Harry smiles and drops his eyes, his cheeks a soft pink. He lifts his eyes again to meet Louis’ and Louis just stares at him for a few seconds, completely enamored. Then his mouth slowly turns up into a teasing smirk and he prods Harry’s ribs with his index finger. “Wait a minute,” he says, his smirk turning into a grin. “You _practiced_ your voicemail message before you hit send? That’s about the most darling thing I’ve ever heard.” His mind flashes on the effect Harry’s voice in that message had on him earlier that morning and he clears his throat and whispers, “It was a _really_ good message, Harry.”

Harry smiles wide, his dimple on full display. “Well… I just wanted it to be… _perfect_ , is all.” The lift chimes and the doors open, the waiting passengers filing in. “My Review is on the forty-sixth floor,” he tells Louis, changing the subject. “Where are you headed?”

Louis grins and replies, “The forty-sixth floor. Room 4604, to be exact.”

Harry’s eyes grow wide. “I’m in room 4606!” he exclaims. “Our Reviews must be taking place right next door to each other.”

“Well, how do you like that?” Louis asks, as he holds out his arm, ushering Harry onto the lift.

“I like it a lot, actually,” Harry answers, echoing Louis’ words from the night before.

As the lift doors close, the passengers begin to hit the buttons for their floors and Louis and Harry each reach out at the same time, their fingers nudging against each other as they both push the button that reads _46_. Louis looks at Harry as they both lift their fingers off the button. “Shall we?” he asks and points to an empty space along the back of the lift. The two move around the other passengers until they are standing side-by-side, backs pressed against the rear wall.

The first part of the ride goes by quickly enough, the lift zipping past the first thirty floors of the building without making any stops. Louis teases Harry about his tupa, smartly asking, “Didn’t you wear that outfit last night?”

Harry chuckles in response. “Well, if I were on Earth right now, I’d probably be dressed in black skinnies, suede boots and a floral shirt, unbuttoned to just about…” he points his finger at the center of chest, not far above where Louis’ presumes his navel to be. “Here.”

“Shit,” Louis responds, a vision of Harry in a loose, unbuttoned shirt and tight black trousers suddenly flashing through his mind. He swallows and adds, “I imagine that looked quite nice on you.”

Harry laughs, “Well, I definitely had my own style of dressing, but I have to admit, my legs are really happy to be out of fitted trousers and into something less… constricting.” He pulls at the skirt of his tupa. “This thing is ridiculously comfortable.”

Louis nods in agreement. He was known to wear some pretty tight trousers during his own lifetime, and honestly, nothing he ever wore during his time on Earth was even slightly as comfortable as a tupa.

Once they reach the thirty-first floor, the lift begins stopping to let passengers off. They’ve stopped at floors thirty-one, thirty-four, and thirty-seven when the last passengers aside from Harry and Louis have exited, leaving the two alone. The doors close and the lift once again begins its ascent, the illuminated numbers on the panel of buttons indicating each floor passed.

When they reach the thirty-ninth floor, the lift suddenly jolts to a stop and drops slightly and Louis lets out a scared yelp, slapping his hand in embarrassment over his mouth. “Sorry,” he whispers, looking at Harry as the lift stutters and then starts back up again. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

Harry looks at Louis and smiles, taking a step closer. He looks down between their bodies and Louis’ own eyes follow suit. Harry reaches his hand out to Louis’, taking it in his, their fingers intertwining, their palms resting flush against each other. It’s a simple gesture, yet it feels monumental and although Louis got to hold Harry’s hand the night before, he is once again taken aback by how perfectly strong and sure Harry’s hand feels against his own, and how well they fit together.

“Is this okay?” Harry whispers, raising his eyebrows in question.

Louis nods his head in response. He takes in a breath and whispers back, “It’s more than okay. It’s really nice, actually.” The two turn their bodies to face each other and Louis stares up into Harry’s eyes as the lift continues upwards.

It’s at this very moment that Louis decides to go for it. He missed his opportunity at kissing Harry the previous evening and he is not going to let it happen again. He moves in closer to Harry and can feel his heartbeat start to quicken in his chest, his body suddenly enveloped in heat emanating from Harry. Louis stretches on the balls of his feet and leans in, Harry lowering his face towards Louis’ in response, his breath but soft, warm puffs against Louis’ lips.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Louis whispers and then adds, “I mean, if that’s alright with you, of course.”

Harry nods his head, answering, “Thank you, please,” an embarrassed giggle escaping his lips. Louis can’t help but grin in return as he leans in. Harry sucks in a breath, his eyes locked on Louis’ mouth, his own lips slightly parted in anticipation.

Louis closes his eyes. _This is it, you lucky bastard_ , he thinks to himself as he feels his lips just start to brush against Harry’s, electricity buzzing through his veins. _I waited my entire life to kiss someone like you_ , Louis thinks, and the sentiment is both pure and true.

Louis moves closer still, tilting his head slightly to the side to align their mouths properly as he reaches out to wrap his hand behind Harry’s neck, his fingers threading through Harry’s long, loose curls as he pulls his body closer. He closes his lips fully over Harry’s, their mouths gently pressing together. Louis feels a buzz of energy igniting his extremities as he presses forward for deeper contact. He starts to close his mouth, to complete the first in a series of soft, gentle kisses – and then the lift bell chimes and the car comes to a stop.

Louis and Harry instantly pull apart, completely surprised by the intrusion.

“Bloody hell, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Louis practically shouts as the lift doors open. Harry just throws his head back and barks out a nervous laugh.

“Well that was interesting timing, wasn’t it?” Harry sighs, letting out a deep breath and squeezing Louis’ hand. Louis just stares at Harry shaking his head. _Fuck it_ he thinks, and is about to lean up and kiss Harry again, and _for real_ this time, regardless of whether every person on the forty-sixth floor can see them or not, when he hears a throat clearing just outside the lift.

Louis turns his head away from Harry, his lips still tingling from the teasing contact. He looks out the lift doors to find Marcus standing facing them with his arms crossed, a sly grin spreading across his face. He’s dressed exquisitely in a black, three-piece suit and his perfectly pressed shirt is the palest lavender hue that brings out flecks of color in his brown eyes. “Good morning, Louis,” he says, shaking his head and raising an eyebrow.

“This isn’t over,” Louis whispers to Harry, his body thrumming with arousal, his breathing heavy. Harry squeezes his hand and presses his mouth against Louis’ ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down Louis’ spine.

“Not a chance,” Harry replies.

The two step off the lift.

Marcus uncrosses his arms and looks over to Harry, stepping forward and reaching out his hand. “And you’re Harry. We haven’t properly met.”

Harry reaches out to shake Marcus’ hand, not paying full attention, his eyes still locked on Louis’. Louis tilts his head toward Marcus in acknowledgment and Harry clears his throat and gives Marcus his full attention. It’s then that Harry gets a proper look at Marcus, his mouth falling open in surprise, his brows furrowing in confusion as he registers the man who stands before him.

“I… Oh my god… Are you…?” Harry stutters, his expression utterly baffled.

“Oh!” Louis says and points at Harry’s perplexed face. “I know that look. I’ve _had_ that look myself, in fact.” He gently grips Harry’s elbow and leans in conspiratorially, “I promise you, Harry, he’s not Kanye West. He only just _looks_ like him.”

Marcus smiles and rolls his eyes and Harry nods his head slowly, but his expression is still puzzled. He shakes Marcus’ hand.

“Right,” Harry says, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to be rude and stare.” He looks at Marcus and squints, as if deep in thought. “Of course, it wouldn’t really make sense for Kanye West to be _here_. Right now, I mean,” Harry says, his voice serious. He then adds softer, shrugging his shoulders, “But after seeing Elvis Presley last night, I wouldn’t be surprised of anything, really.

“Ah yes, the Elvis concert,” Marcus responds, clapping his hands together. “Did you gentleman enjoy the show?” He looks between Harry and Louis and tilts his head, sizing them up. He doesn’t wait for either man to answer before continuing with a grin, “I’m guessing you enjoyed it very much.”

Just then, another lift chimes and out steps a tall woman with blonde hair swept into a French twist. She’s dressed in a grey pantsuit and wears a colorful printed blouse with a huge bow tied around her neck. “Harry!” she exclaims and walks over to him, kissing him on either cheek.

Louis instantly feels a pang of jealousy, which dissipates a bit when the woman grabs him and repeats the action, kissing either of Louis’ cheeks and happily exclaiming, “And you must be Louis!” She looks him up and down. “Well, you’re simply all that and a bowl of chips, aren’t you?”

Louis looks at Harry, his expression slightly confused. Harry smiles and introduces Louis to the woman. “This is Samantha Wilson, Louis. She’s my advocate.”

“Oh, right, yes!” Louis responds, relieved. He realizes he hasn’t even known Harry long enough to warrant his unexpected flare of jealousy, but nonetheless he can’t help but feel protective over Harry and his relationship with him. He wants to _claim_ Harry actually, and the thought makes him weak in the knees. He looks at Harry who is smiling at him sweetly and he feels desire in the pit of his belly.

_Shit. Get it together, Tomlinson._

Louis clears his throat and looks at Samantha. “Um, so, Samantha, you work with Marcus, then?”

“I do,” Samantha answers. “And please call me Sam.” She looks between Louis and Harry and studies them both for a moment and once again, Louis feels like he and Harry are being scrutinized. He doesn’t quite understand it, but everyone who has looked at them like this seems to be on their side, so when she nods her head and glances at Marcus, smiling knowingly, he’s not even surprised or upset by the gesture.

She turns her attention back to Louis, pointing her thumb at Marcus and says assuredly, “Let me tell you Louis, you’ve got the best advocate in Judgment City in Marcus. I have a really good feeling about how things will turn out for you.”

“I feel pretty lucky to have him on my side,” Louis answers.

Marcus looks over to Louis and then back to Sam, “You’re both too kind. However, I do agree with you on this one, Sam. I think Louis is going to do great.” He winks at Louis and it immediately gives Louis a boost of confidence. “Anyway, I hate to break this up, but I’m afraid we need to get into our room so I can prepare Louis for today’s session.”

“Yes, right!” Sam answers. “Same here. I need to prep Harry on what to expect.” Sam looks at Harry. “Shall we?” she asks, and points towards a door marked _4606_.

Harry nods his head and then pauses, looking to Sam. “We get a lunch break, don’t we?” he asks, and then looks over at Louis and just the tiniest hint of pink colors his cheeks. “Because Louis and I thought we might take ours together.” He then smiles at Louis, Louis smiling dopily in return: the moment feeling intimate and private, even though they are hardly alone.

Both Marcus and Sam grin at Louis and Harry like a couple of proud parents. “Of course!” Sam answers. “You’ll have a break from one to 3 PM. Should give you plenty of time to… _grab lunch_.”

Harry’s smile stays fixed, as if he’s totally missed Sam’s implication. He steps to Louis and reaches out to him, wrapping his hand around Louis’ upper arm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll see you at one then, yeah?”

Louis nods and smiles, “Yeah. One o’clock. That’ll be great.”

Sam places her hand on Harry’s elbow and gently pulls him towards their Review room, Harry’s eyes still locked on Louis’ as he steps back and follows her. They cross the threshold into the room and Harry looks over his shoulder as Sam grabs the door handle, Harry mouthing “One o’clock,” to Louis as the door is pulled shut.

Louis just stares at the door, a stupid grin playing across his face.

“Come on, Romeo,” Marcus chuckles. “You’ve got a big day ahead of you. Let’s get started.”

“Oh. Yeah, right.” Louis answers quietly, letting out a sigh and then tearing his eyes away from the closed door.

Louis follows Marcus into Room 4604, which is directly next to the room Harry entered, six or seven meters to its right. The room is comparable in size to a large conference room and a bit different than Louis expected. He actually doesn’t know what he expected, but what he sees surprises him nonetheless.

Three walls of the room are painted a soft, earthen green color, with a wide wooden cherry chair rail running the length of each. Encompassing the entire far left wall of the room is a screen, not unlike a screen one would find in a home theater, but larger, this screen running from floor to ceiling and end to end. Louis looks up and notices that suspended from the ceiling and mounted about three meters from the wall is what looks to be a digital projector, its lens positioned directly towards the screen.

Located in the center of the room is a leather chair, similar to the chair Louis used to sit in behind his desk at the advertising agency. It has an ample seat cushion, contoured backrest and wide arm rests. It sits atop a round platform and is situated approximately five meters from the viewing screen, facing the opposite direction towards a large judge’s bench.

“That’s where you’ll be sitting during most of your Review, Louis,” Marcus tells him, and Louis eyes the chair suspiciously.

“Nothing like being the center of attention,” Louis replies, his voice unsure.

Marcus nods his head in understanding. “Well, Louis,” he answers. “That’s kind of what this whole thing is about. You’re the reason we’re here.” He offers Louis a kind smile and Louis lets out a slow breath. “There is nothing to be nervous about,” Marcus continues. “I promise you, everyone in this room will be on your side.” He looks at Louis, his expression serious and adds, “Although, it might not always appear that way.”

“Well, there’s opposing counsel, yes?” Louis asks.

Marcus nods his head. “Yes, but remember, they’re actually a delegate for the _universe_. They’re not opposing _you_ per se. It’s nothing personal. You’re not on trial. But their job is to present reasons why you’re not ready to move forward.”

“Do you know anything about them? The delegate, I mean?” Louis asks.

“Actually, I’m still waiting to find out who the delegate for your Review will be. There was a bit of a mix-up and just this morning the person originally assigned to your case had to drop out to tend to another matter. But we’ll find out soon enough who we’re up against.”

Louis nods his head and takes in the rest of the room. On either side of his chair is a rectangular table made of polished cherry wood. The two tables face each other, each having two overstuffed office chairs positioned side by side and facing the opposite table. Sitting on each table is a tray with a glass pitcher of ice water and two beverage glasses. A box of tissues sits on the table closest to the door.

Marcus points to the table on the opposite side of the room. “That’s where the delegate sits, Louis.” He then points to the table nearest to them and pulls out one of the chairs, ushering Louis to take a seat. Louis sits down and Marcus takes the seat beside him. The chairs swivel and a smile flashes across Louis’ face as he thinks of Harry and him swiveling their seats like idiots the night before at the Elvis concert.

Marcus continues speaking, holding his hand out to indicate their table. “And this is where we sit. Of course, you’ll be sitting in the Screening Chair while we show the clips of your life.”

“You’re going to be showing actual film clips of my life on Earth?” Louis asks, incredulous. Marcus nods his head.

“It can be a very emotional experience, Louis. In fact, you’ll find that when we view the clips of your life, you’ll be experiencing most of the same emotions you did when you actually lived through the events displayed onscreen.” Louis raises his eyebrows, concerned, and Marcus offers him a reassuring smile.

“What clips will you be showing then?” Louis asks, the slight quiver in his voice betraying his nerves.

“I can’t tell you exactly what clips we’ll be showing, because you have to have an honest and unrehearsed reaction to them. But what I can tell you is that as you view those clips, try to consider why you did what you did during the specific events. I want you to think about what motivated you, and was there a lasting impact that resulted from those actions.” Marcus turns to face Louis fully and looks at him straight on, his expression serious. “The delegate is going to be showing clips that don’t always portray you in the most flattering light, Louis. But we learn from every experience we have and every experience reflects a part of us, and so I want you to think of them in that way.”

Louis nods his head slowly. “Shit, I’m getting really nervous, Marcus. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life.”

Marcus reaches out and places his hand on Louis’ forearm. “ _We all_ made a lot of mistakes during our lifetimes, Louis. I need for you to remember that.”

Louis sighs and whispers, “Okay.”

Marcus points to the large, elevated judges’ bench which runs in front of the wall opposite the projection screen. It looks like a judges’ bench one would see in a television courtroom drama, save for the fact that it’s wide enough to accommodate three high-back leather chairs that face out over the Review Room. Three nameplates sit on the front of the bench and read, _Justice Elizabeth Kelly_ , _Chief Justice Kari Wen_ and _Justice Ian Elliot_ , respectively. “And that’s where the justices will be sitting.”

“This is really happening,” Louis says, trying to take it all in. “What do you know about them?” Louis asks. “The justices…. Are they fair?”

“Everyone here is fair, Louis. Trust me.” Marcus looks over at the judge’s bench and nods his head. “We’ve got a fine panel of justices presiding over your case. Justice Kelly and Justice Elliot have been on the bench for decades and they’re very conscientious. Very fair, indeed.” Marcus points to the center nameplate and continues. “Justice Wen is younger, she’s only been on the bench for about fifteen years, but she’s smart as a whip. Uses _sixty-three percent_ of her brain,” he adds, shaking his head in awe. “Don’t let her appearance fool you, though. She’s Chief Justice for a reason.”

Louis bites his bottom lip and looks at the bench again and Marcus pats his shoulder. “Listen, Louis,” he says, “The justices are on your side as much as I am. They’ll be considering all of the facts that are presented by the delegate and myself and they will ultimately decide whether you go back to Earth or move forward in the universe. It’s their job to make sure that if you do move forward, you’re absolutely _ready_ to do so.”

“I hope I’m ready, Marcus,” Louis says, and then a thought crosses his mind. “Someone on my tram this morning asked me how many days I’ll be looking at,” Louis continues, his voice soft. “I didn’t quite understand what he meant, so I’m asking you now. How many days am I looking at, Marcus?”

Marcus shakes his head. “Louis, the numbers of days we review are not important. I don’t get into that with clients because it causes unnecessary stress. Just know that you’re in a good position and I think we have a very strong case that you should move forward. I believe in you, Louis.”

Louis pauses before responding. “Thank you, Marcus,” he says, sincerely. He clears his throat. “I’m really glad you’re working with me.”

Marcus smiles. “We’re a team, Louis. I promise that I am going to do everything in my power to help you.” He holds out his fist for Louis to bump and Louis’ mind flashes on the memory of sitting in his new car and fist-bumping Liam on the last day of his life on Earth. He feels a rush of love and nostalgia as the memory washes over him and he holds up his own fist, knocking it against Marcus’.

“Thanks, mate,” he answers softly.

Marcus continues, his smile growing a bit wider, his eyebrows raised suggestively. “Of course, I might not be _quite_ in the same league of _teammate_ as your boy, Harry.” The mood in the room instantly lightens.

Louis ducks his head and laughs, a rush of blood tinting his cheeks. Then he raises his head and looks Marcus directly in the eyes. “He’s pretty great, isn’t he?”

Marcus nods and smiles. “You’re in love with him, I think,” he says, his voice sure.

Louis’ jaw drops and his eyes grow wide. At first, he says nothing, just opens and closes his mouth a few times as he tries to formulate his thoughts. “Marcus!” he finally exclaims and Marcus looks at him like he knows every thought inside Louis’ head.

“I just met him.... I… That’s not enough time… You know... To feel such a thing… About another person, I mean. That’s awfully fast.” Louis places his hands flat on the tabletop and spreads out his fingers. He just stares at them for a moment and then he slowly looks at Marcus and asks, “It’s too soon to feel such a thing, don’t you think?”

Marcus shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s too soon at all. When you know you’ve found the right person, _you just know_.” He smiles and taps the table. “ _Honesty_ , Louis. You and I need to be _honest_ with – ”

“I love him.” Louis interjects and slowly a shy smile spreads across his face. “I’m pretty sure I’m _in love_ with him. But I don’t know how he feels,” he adds, his voice tinged with apprehension. “So can we keep it between you and me? For now, anyway?”

“Of course,” Marcus answers, grinning. “But judging by the way he looks at you, I’m quite certain your boy feels the exact same way.”

“Shit,” Louis replies, his voice full of awe.

“Indeed,” Marcus smiles.

Louis lets out a deep breath. “You’re very perceptive, Marcus,” he says, raising his eyebrows, his voice playful.

“I am,” Marcus answers, not even trying to feign humility. “But more than that, I recognize the look.”

“The _look_?” Louis asks.

“Yep. _The look._ My wife and I had the same ridiculous, lovesick expressions on our faces when we first got together that you and Harry wear every time I see you two in the same room. ”

“You’re married, Marcus?” Louis asks, completely surprised. “Oh,” he adds, his voice quieter, “do you mean you were married on Earth?”

“I _am_ married, Louis. And no, I wasn’t married on Earth. I’m married here and now. Of course, we do it a bit differently here, it’s more of a spiritual commitment: there are no politicians or misguided preachers to screw things up. But my wife and I have an eternal bond. We’ll be together forever and it’s…” Marcus’ face takes on a wistful expression, and for a minute, he looks completely dazed and love struck. He clears his throat and smiles, once again regaining his composure. “She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me, Louis. We’ll be together forever and I can’t wait to spend every day of eternity with her.”

“Jesus, Marcus,” Louis says, his voice reverent. “That’s really amazing. I’m so happy for you.” He shakes his head and adds softly, “People fall in love here. I swear this place is heaven.”

Marcus smiles. “It’s not, Louis. But that doesn’t matter. You can call this place any name you like. Heaven is a state of mind anyway, I suppose. So when you’re with Harry and you feel the love you have for him, then yes, that just might be heaven. God knows I think I’m in heaven whenever I’m alone with my wife.”

Louis grins. “Marcus, you’re a softie!”

Just then, there is a rapid knock on the door and Marcus looks at his watch, furrowing his brow, “We still have six minutes of prep time.” He pushes his seat back and gets up to answer the door.

In rushes a woman that Louis recognizes as the receptionist from Marcus’ office.

She carries in her hand a manila envelope.

“Good morning, Rachel,” Marcus says. “You remember Louis?”

Louis stands and Rachel shakes his hand, she smiles briefly at Louis and then her attention returns to Marcus, her voice serious. “This just came for you and I thought I should bring it over right away. The delegate for Mr. Tomlinson’s review has been assigned and you’re not going to believe who it is.”

Marcus raises his eyebrows. “Oh really?” he asks, and Rachel nods her head slowly. Marcus stares at her for a moment and she nods again. Recognition dawns across his face. “Wait… You’ve got to be kidding me,” Marcus replies, tilting his head and then rolling his eyes. He lets out a long sigh. “Don’t even tell me.”

She hands Marcus the envelope and he opens it, removing a single sheet of paper, shaking his head as he reads.

“This must be an important case if she’s taking it on.” Rachel says, and then she looks over at Louis, suddenly aware of the impact of her words and smiles reassuringly. It does little to calm Louis, as he is already starting to feel panicked.

“She _who_?” Louis asks, his nerves once again returning, despite the happy sojourn into talk of love and Harry.

“Well,” Marcus answers, “The delegate for the universe has been assigned and it’s Ileana Bachchan. She’s tops in her field, really.” He shakes his head and sighs. “I knew you were on the cusp, Louis. But I didn’t think they would send in The Dragon Lady.”

“ _The Dragon Lady!_ ” Louis practically shouts. “You call her The Dragon Lady? What exactly am I up against, Marcus?”

Marcus grips Louis’ shoulders with both hands. “I want you to listen to me, Louis. Ileana _is_ tops in her field and she’s a fierce fighter. She holds nothing back. That’s why they call her _The Dragon Lady_.” He gives Louis’ shoulders a squeeze and Louis just stares at him, helpless. “But believe me, Louis,” Marcus continues, “ _I too_ am tops in my field and _I’m_ also a fierce fighter. _I_ hold nothing back. You’ve nothing to be worried about.” His moves a bit closer to Louis and looks him straight in the eyes. “You have to trust me, Louis. _I’m going to fight for you._ ”

Louis nods his head, Marcus’ words a calming force and he feels relief course through his veins. “I trust you, Marcus. I know you’re on my side.”

Marcus smiles and the two do another fist bump, Louis blowing out a deep breath.

“She lost last week,” Rachel says and Marcus and Louis both look at her in surprise.

“That’s right!” Marcus exclaims. “She lost last week. It’s going to be fine, Louis.” Marcus looks at his watch. “We’re starting in two minutes.”

“Right,” Rachel answers. “I’ll see you back at the office, Marcus. Good luck today, Mr. Tomlinson,” she says as she leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.

Marcus ushers Louis back to the table and the two haven’t so much as taken their seats when the Review Room door opens again and in walks the most beautiful woman Louis has ever laid his eyes on.

The woman is of Indian heritage, with an hourglass figure and a cascade of long brown hair. She wears a black pencil skirt that hits just above the knee, a white blouse with a wide collar and turned up cuffs, topped with a fitted black blazer. On her feet she wears simple black pumps that show off her shapely calves. Her face is heart shaped and her large eyes are a color Louis has never seen before: a combination of bright blue and steel grey with flecks of green. Her eyebrows are flawlessly arched and her nose is perfectly proportioned to her features, with a sweet, slightly rounded tip. Her mouth is utterly spectacular; her lips are full and plump and covered in a soft pink gloss that somehow manages to be both sexy and professional. Louis thinks she is utterly breathtaking.

“My god,” Louis whispers to Marcus. “She’s absolutely gorgeous.”

Marcus looks at him, his expression stern, and raises an eyebrow. “Don’t even look at her, Louis,” he whispers back, tilting his chin slightly in the woman’s direction. “That woman right there is The Dragon Lady.”

“Holy shit,” Louis answers, stunned.

Just then, the woman, _The Dragon Lady_ , approaches their table and extends her hand to Louis, smiling warmly at him. “Mr. Tomlinson, I presume!” She says happily. “It’s so lovely to meet you. I’m Ileana Bachchan. I’ll be serving as delegate during your Review.”

Louis can’t help but smile in return as he takes her hand in his and shakes it in greeting; she’s just so lovely and her voice is so sweet. Louis isn’t attracted to women, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t recognize great beauty when he sees it, and he finds himself utterly charmed by the woman who stands before him.

Marcus elbows him in the ribs.

“Nice to meet you too,” Louis replies, schooling his expression and suddenly serious. He drops his eyes to the table. The Dragon Lady chuckles.

“Marcus,” she says and tilts her head as she looks him up and down, a sly grin playing across her lips.

“Ileana,” he responds and stares back at her, his expression unreadable.

She extends her hand to him and he takes it reluctantly in his own. “Haven’t sparred with you during a trial in a very long time, Marcus. It was quite a pleasant surprise when I came across Mr. Tomlinson’s docket on my desk.”

“Wait a minute,” Louis interjects. “I thought this wasn’t a trial?”

“It’s not!” Marcus and The Dragon Lady say simultaneously.

The Dragon Lady leans close to Louis, placing her hand atop his and smiles. “Just a poor choice of words, Mr. Tomlinson. Trust me, this isn’t a trial at all. Please don’t be nervous.” Her voice is gentle and kind as she pats Louis’ hand.

Louis smiles at her and doesn’t even realize what he’s saying before, “Thanks, love,” slips out of his mouth. Marcus lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes. The Dragon Lady, _Ileana_ , smiles in delight. She turns and walks across the room, setting the briefcase she carries on the delegate table and pours herself a glass of ice water before taking a seat.

“She’s absolutely unbelievable,” Marcus whispers, shaking his head, clearly agitated.

“I thought she was kind of nice,” Louis answers.

Marcus just stares at him for a minute before raising an eyebrow. “Work with me, Louis,” he says, his expression serious.

“Right, sorry.” Louis answers and tries his best to not make eye contact with Ileana, who is staring at him intently, the slightest smile playing on her lips.

Marcus looks at his watch again. “The justices will be coming in now,” he says to Louis and on his last word, the Review Room door opens and in walk three people dressed in long black judge’s robes. Marcus, Ileana and Louis stand as they enter.

The first two justices to enter are exactly what Louis would picture judges to look like: mature, professional-looking people who have an aura of wisdom about them. The first justice is a black woman who appears to be in her mid-sixties. Her graying hair is swept back in a low bun, her makeup minimal. The second justice is a white man who looks to be approximately seventy years old. He is tall and thin and has thick white hair parted on the side.

But it’s the third justice, the _Chief Justice_ , no less, who really throws Louis for the loop. She looks barely older than a teenager, a child really. And Louis can’t help but raise his eyebrows, his mouth falling slightly open in surprise as he looks her up and down. Marcus leans over and whispers in his ear, “Remember, never judge a book by its cover, Louis.” He adds, “And never judge a justice by her appearance.”

“But she’s practically a child,” Louis whispers back.

“She was twenty-two when she died,” Marcus says. “She’s smart and she’s fair. I think you’ll really like her.”

Louis just stares as the justices take their seats behind the elevated bench. The Chief Justice is a petite woman, _tiny_ really, and Louis thinks she can’t be more than five feet tall. She’s four feet, ten inches in fact. She’s Asian, of Chinese descent, and she has a round face with sharp cheekbones and pale grey eyes. Her black hair is shaved short in a crew cut and she is free of makeup, save for the brightest, reddest lipstick Louis has ever seen. Most notably, covering the side of her neck, which peaks out of the starched white collar of her black judge’s robe, is a large tattoo of a gardenia flower, its green stems wrapping around her neck and touching the base of her throat.

She looks over at Louis and offers him a friendly smile and strangely enough, Louis feels instantly comforted by this small gesture. The Chief Justice may be barely more than a teenager, but there is something about her that has a calming effect on Louis and he’s suddenly glad she’ll be presiding over his Review.

 _She’s an adorable little punk rock pixie_ , he thinks.

“Good morning, Mr. Tomlinson,” she says. And he offers a “Good morning,” of his own in return. She introduces herself as Chief Justice Kari Wen, and then introduces the other two Justices, Elizabeth Kelly and Ian Elliot to Louis. She and the other justices then greet Marcus and Ileana, and by the time the introductions and morning salutations are over nearly two minutes have passed.

“So then, let’s get started, shall we?” the Chief Justice asks, but the question is clearly rhetorical. She looks at Louis and begins to speak, her voice serious.

“Louis William Tomlinson, having left the earthly realm on 22, February 2022, you are hereby called to a Review of your life on Earth. The purpose of this Review is to determine if you are of adequate character and fortitude to move forward in the universe, or if it will better serve you and our great celestial system for you to return to Earth and experience life again.” She looks at Louis and her face softens, her voice taking on a gentle tone as she adds, “Do you have any questions, Mr. Tomlinson?”

“I don’t believe so,” Louis answers, and his voice cracks on the last word, his nerves getting the better of him.

“Very well, then,” the Chief Justice says. “Mr. Tomlinson, will you please take your seat in the Screening Chair?”

Louis looks at Marcus and Marcus nods his head, whispering, “It’s okay, you’re going to do great, Louis.” Louis gets up out of his seat and walks over to the leather chair in the center of the room. He sits down, resting both feet on the floor and adjusting the sleeves of his tupa before placing his arms on the chair’s arm rests.

His view is intimidating: directly in front of him sit three justices who will decide his fate. To his left is The Dragon Lady who wants to return him to Earth and make him experience life for the twentieth time. But to his right is Marcus, and that alone is enough to provide Louis a bit of consolation.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” Chief Justice Wen continues, “We’ll begin with opening statements, first from the delegate, then from your advocate. After the opening statements are complete, we’ll begin examining the days selected for review. The days are categorized in accordance to the years of your life, so, for example, if we pull up Day 5-10-6, what we are looking at is the fifth year, tenth month and sixth day of your life on Earth. Does that make sense to you, Mr. Tomlinson?”

Louis nods his head and says, “Yes, your honor,” in response. The Chief Justice continues.

“Ms. Bachchan, you may begin.”

Ileana stands and looks directly at Louis and then to the justices, ignoring Marcus completely.

“Your honors,” she starts and then takes a long, dramatic pause as if carefully contemplating her next words. “Louis William Tomlinson is a _good_ man. During his life on Earth, he was both kind and generous to those he cared about and loved. He also dedicated significant free time to various philanthropic organizations, did pro bono work for non-profit groups, and organized charity drives for sick children in hospital. He worked _hard_ ,” she emphasizes. “He came from a humble background and built a very successful career for himself through pure dedication and diligence and regardless of his level of success, he never forgot those less fortunate, whether they were personally related to him or not.”

Louis looks over at Marcus, confused at the delegate’s kind words. He thought she was working _against_ him after all, and her praise makes little sense to him. Marcus looks Louis in the eye and nods his head toward Ileana, his face serious.

Ileana continues speaking as she walks around the table to the center of the room. “But as we all know, having a successful career is not the same as having a successful _life_. Caring for one’s fellow man is very honorable and is worthy of recognition, but so is caring for oneself.”

Ileana looks over at Louis sympathetically, takes a deep breath and continues, “To have a full human experience, it’s simply not enough to be kind and generous, particularly if that kindness and generosity is used as a means of making amends for one’s personal failings and inadequacies.” Louis winces, Ileana’s harsh words stinging.

Ileana walks over to Louis and holds out her hand, directing it towards him. “Louis William Tomlinson is a kind man. And during his time on Earth, he was a _generous_ man. But he also lived a life shrouded in fear: fear brought on by shame and fear brought on by an inability to accept himself for who he was. His fear not only affected his own life, but it also hurt those close to him, the very people who loved him most in the world.”

Louis ducks his head, his cheeks turning crimson and his body suddenly hot all over as sadness and regret flood his veins. He feels a flash of nausea as he considers there may be a shred of truth to what Ileana is saying and the idea that he is even considering such a thought causes a sharp pain in his chest. He looks over to Marcus needing reassurance, and Marcus raises his hand slightly from where it rests on the table and makes a fist, pushing it forward in a one-sided fist bump that is seen only by Louis. Louis offers a subtle nod in understanding and then takes a deep breath and holds his head up.

“Mr. Diamond will argue that Mr. Tomlinson was making positive changes when his life on Earth ended,” Ileana continues, “and indeed he was. But those changes were simply not enough to warrant him moving forward to the next realm. During the course of this Review, we will examine several episodes from Mr. Tomlinson’s life that clearly show a repeated pattern of his actions being determined by fear.”

Ileana turns and faces Louis, looking at him straight on, her eyes kind, and her words contradictorily callous. “From failing to stand up for himself and avoiding risks, to marrying a woman he did not love: a woman he was not even _attracted_ to,” she emphasizes, “Louis Tomlinson repeatedly fell short of one worthy of advancement.”

Louis feels like all of the blood has been drained from his body at her words. _She brought up Eleanor! How could she bring up Eleanor?_ He didn’t know what to expect with this whole thing, but he never could have imagined that his ex-wife would be brought up ten minutes into his Review. It’s just then that Louis realizes how apropos the nickname _The Dragon Lady_ really is.

Ileana continues speaking. “Kindness and generosity do not negate personal failings. Mr. Tomlinson proved time and again that the one thing that influenced the majority of the decisions he made on Earth, the key reason that led him to make poor choices, and the determining factor that held him back in finding true happiness, was fear. It is for that reason, and that reason alone, that Mr. Tomlinson should be returned to Earth, so that he might grow and get past the fears holding him back. Only then can he truly contribute to the next realm and the universe as a whole.”

Louis is absolutely gob smacked. His mouth falls slightly open in reaction to Ileana’s statement and his stomach is tied up in knots. He feels embarrassed and ashamed. Ileana’s speech was brief and concise, and her words cut Louis to the quick. He hasn’t felt so helpless and humiliated since… He shakes his head, unwilling to revisit that specific occasion right now.

Ileana takes her seat and Chief Justice Wen asks Louis if he is okay. He knows that he needs to be strong, that these are just the opening statements and he should prepare himself for worse when the actual film clips start. He steels his nerves, looks at the justice and takes a deep breath. “Yes, your honor,” he says, although he’s not sure the answer is one hundred percent the truth. She nods and tells Marcus he may present his opening statement.

Marcus stands and looks over to Louis and their eyes lock on one another. Although he is deeply shaken by Ileana’s statement, Louis feels a boost of confidence just from Marcus’ own sure stare. Marcus pulls the lapels of his jacket and looks around the Review Room, his eyes settling on Ileana.

“Your honors,” he says his voice clear and confident. “My –,” he pauses abruptly and shakes his head, smiling ruefully before clearing his throat and continuing. “Your honors, you’ve just heard a very dramatic and very clever opening statement from Ms. Bachchan.”

Louis looks over and notices Ileana raise an eyebrow ever so slightly, and then school her expression.

“While I don’t agree with most of her statement, what I do agree on is that Louis William Tomlinson lived a life guided by kindness and generosity, the very cornerstones of advancement in the universe.” Louis lets out a soft breath. Just a few words from Marcus, and he is already starting to feel better.

“Were there times in his life where Mr. Tomlinson was unsure of himself? Absolutely. Did he make mistakes that inadvertently hurt others? He did.” Louis looks at Marcus and raises and eyebrow in question, but Marcus pays him no mind and continues speaking. “Ms. Bachchan would have you believe that fear was the root cause of these failings, that Mr. Tomlinson was weak and afraid and that’s why he made the choices he did. But I argue, and I will prove during the course of this Review, that the reason Louis made some of the poor choices he did in life was not because he was afraid, but rather because he was _human_.”

Louis lets out a breath of relief at Marcus’ assessment and reminds himself never to question Marcus’ tactics. Marcus walks over to Louis and stands beside his chair.

“Louis Tomlinson was not a fearless individual; most humans are not. But it’s important not to conflate such conditions as uncertainty, self-preservation, and even compassion with fear. Because these are wholly different motivating factors in a person’s life.” He looks at Louis and offers him a reassuring smile and Louis feels his body relax, the humiliation he felt during Ileana’s opening statement melting away.

“My client, Mr. Tomlinson, _Louis_ ,” Marcus says, emphasizing his first name, “is what we in Judgment City refer to as being ‘right on the cusp’. As you all know and what Louis may not,” Marcus says, looking to Louis, “is that ‘right on the cusp’ means Louis showed time and again through his actions and character that he is worthy of moving forward in the universe.”

Louis raises his eyebrows in surprise. He’d heard the phrase ‘right on the cusp’ repeatedly since his arrival and never really gave much thought to what it could mean.

“And yet,” Marcus continues, Louis suddenly nervous of what he is going to say next, “there were a few, questionable incidences in Louis’ life that might preclude his advancement.”

 _Oh shit_ , Louis thinks.

“During this Review, I will prove beyond a doubt, that those incidences, occurrences that Ms. Bachchan will paint as being motivated by fear, were in fact instigated by the conditions I mentioned earlier such as self-preservation and confusion, but more so than anything, they were characterized by compassion and love.”

Marcus walks towards the judges’ bench and faces the justices. He holds an arm out towards Louis. “Could Louis have made better choices during his time on Earth? Absolutely.” Marcus chuckles softly. “I’d argue that no one in this room made perfect decisions during their lifetime.” Louis catches Justice Kelly smile ever so slightly and nod her head as Marcus continues. “But are a few poor choices enough to warrant him going back and living life over again?” He faces the delegate table, looking at Ileana directly, his voice sure and serious as he says, “Absolutely not.”

Marcus walks back over to the advocate table and takes his seat. Louis looks over to him and mouths, “Thank you,” overwhelmed by gratitude that Marcus is on his side.

Chief Justice Wen then speaks. “Thank you counselors for your opening arguments, we’ll now begin the official Review. Mr. Tomlinson, I’m sure Mr. Diamond has advised you that viewing these clips can cause one to feel unexpected emotions?”

“Yes, your honor,” Louis answers, a rush of anticipation flooding his veins.

“Very good. Mr. Diamond, as advocate, you’ll begin with the first clip.

“Your honors, I’d like to pull up date 4-6-14.”

The Chief Justice looks at Louis. “Just as a reminder, Mr. Tomlinson, that means we will be looking at the fourth year of your life, sixth month, fourteenth day. Do you understand?”

Louis nods his head and answers, “Yes, your honor.” Just then Louis’ chair begins to rotate and Louis looks around the room, grabbing the hand rests in confusion. The chair turns clockwise one hundred eighty degrees, facing the viewing screen head on as the lights in the Review Room dim and then shut off completely, the room in almost total darkness, save for the soft lighting which emanates around the molding that runs the perimeter of the room.

 _This is it_.

The screen comes to life.

Louis is stunned by what he sees.

Projected across the entirety of the screen is the backyard of Louis’ childhood home in Doncaster, a home his mother still lives in. The image starts low to the ground, as if from young Louis’ perspective, and then pans across the yard, Louis drawing in a sharp breath at the rush of recognition as his mother’s prized flower beds, a freshly painted tool shed, and his childhood swing set come into view. Birds chirp in the background and a dog barks somewhere in the distance. Then Louis hears it, the familiar sound of his mum and stepfather talking, their voices slowly becoming clearer as the film progresses. The image pans out and sure enough, there they stand, just to the left of the garden shed. It’s evident that they are arguing.

“Mum,” Louis whispers and he is hit with a wave of longing to reach out and touch her. She looks breathtakingly young, as does Louis’ stepfather Mark, who stands mere inches from Louis’ mother, his finger pointed in her face, his voice angry. The image pans out further and there stands Louis, barely more than a toddler, his hair cut in a familiar bowl-style, his eyes furrowed in concern.

“My god,” Louis whispers, shaking his head in awe, completely overwhelmed by the image of his younger self onscreen. It is all so real and Louis actually feels like he is living the moment over again, all while he watches it unfold before him.

Just then, the young Louis onscreen marches towards his parents and stomps his chubby leg on the ground. They ignore him, their argument growing increasingly loud. He stomps his foot again and slaps his hands to his sides. They keep on squabbling, not even registering that Louis is standing there, Louis’ frustration at their lack of acknowledgment evident on his face.

“Stop it!” young Louis wails, “Stop it this instant!” Both Louis mother and stepfather instantly freeze, both turning slowly to face Louis, their mouths open in shock.

“You shouldn’t fight!” Louis chastises, then stomps his right foot once again. “It’s bad. You’re grown ups. Grown ups shouldn’t act bad!” His parents just stare at him for a moment and Louis stares right back, his hands perched on his tiny hips, his stance completely defiant.

And then it happens. His mum gives in first, her angry expression softening slightly. She lets out a soft snigger and turns to Mark. The two stare at each other as their expressions change: their anger disappearing, their faces turning fond.

Mark starts to chuckle and then they both give way to giggles that build until they are laughing heartily. Louis’ mum bends over and swoops Louis up in her arms. Adult Louis feels a burst of love and comfort in that moment and he wants to wrap his own arms around his mother and squeeze her tight in a hug, just like his younger self is doing on the screen.

Mark pulls Louis’ mum and Louis into a close embrace and looks at young Louis, saying, “You know what? You’re right, son. It was a silly argument and I’m very sorry it happened.” Louis mum smiles broadly in response, brushing her lips against Mark’s and offering her own apology before pulling Louis tighter and peppering his face in kisses.

The screen fades to black.

Louis’ breathing is heavy and he feels overwhelmed with emotions. He is both happy and sad and it’s bittersweet: the longing he feels to return to that moment in time, to bask in how safe and happy he felt in his mother’s arm, his stepfather showering him in approval.

His chair rotates as the room lights slowly brighten and Louis once again faces the justices. A single tear falls from his eye. Marcus pours a glass of water and grabs a tissue, bringing them over to Louis, who accepts them gratefully. Louis wipes his eyes and then takes a long sip of water before handing the glass back to Marcus and whispering thanks. Marcus places the water glass back on the table before returning to Louis’ side.

“I know the first viewing can be very intense,” he says, directly to Louis. “But I want you to tell me exactly how you felt in that moment.”

Louis doesn’t even have to think about it; he feels like he is still living the moment and his reaction is fresh. “I felt a bit scared at first,” he says, and then draws in a breath, nervous at having acknowledged his own fear.

“That’s a perfectly normal reaction a child so young would have to seeing their parents argue, Louis. Please continue,” Marcus says.

“Well, even though I was a bit scared; they were so loud and so mad,” Louis adds. “I began to feel angry. I couldn’t believe they were fighting like that. It wasn’t right. I remember thinking that I had to stop it… So… Um. That’s what I did.”

Marcus smiles and nods his head, “That’s what you did,” he says seriously and then turns to the justices. “That was a very brave thing for such a young child to do.” He looks back at Louis, “A child not even five years old confronting his parents and breaking up a fight. That took strength and that took courage.”

Louis nods his head, his emotions still strong; but he also feels himself slowly settling down and relaxing, as if with each breath he takes, he lets go a little of the intensity of the moment and becomes a bit more calm.

Marcus looks Louis directly in the eye. “Louis, were you raised to talk back to your parents, to be disrespectful, or to chastise them?”

“Absolutely not,” Louis answers truthfully. “We were all taught to be respectful from the start. It was very important in my house growing up, respecting my parents.”

“Would you be punished if you were disrespectful?”

“Yes, sometimes.”

“Were the punishments severe?”

“Um… I would say the punishments were…” Louis pauses and remembers a particular time that his stepfather spanked him with a belt for disobeying a direct order. Louis shakes his head, trying to clear his brain of the painful memory. He continues, “Mostly if we talked back or acted up, we were put in time-out, or the telly was taken away, that sort of thing.”

“But your stepfather, he sometimes enforced harsher punishments, correct?”

Louis swallows and looks up at Marcus. He doesn’t want to betray Mark, because for the most part, Mark did his best and was very loving to Louis. He treated Louis like his own flesh and blood and Louis always felt appreciative of that. But his punishments _could_ be severe. His spankings were painful and humiliating and the few times he used a belt, Louis was so sore he could barely sit down for hours afterwards.

“Louis,” Marcus presses.

Louis clears his throat and answers, “Yes. Um. Mark, he… Sometimes his punishments could be quite severe.”

“How do you mean?”

Louis lowers his eyes and answers, “On occasion he would spank us. A couple times when I was young he used a belt. When that happened, it was really awful.”

Marcus nods in understanding and then faces the justices. “Louis was four and a half years old in the video we watched. Four and half years old and –” he pauses and walks over to the advocate table and shuffles through a stack of papers Louis hadn’t even noticed were sitting there and when he finds what he is looking for, he continues. “Four and a half years old, and he had already been spanked by his stepfather four times in his young life. _Four times_ ,” he emphasizes, pointing at the paper he holds in his hands.

Louis raises his eyebrows in surprise, having no memory of being spanked so young.

“Four times Louis endured a painful spanking for breaking the rules of his stepfather’s house and yet, knowing that the punishment could be severe, ruthless, really, Louis still bravely confronted his arguing parents. He still had the fortitude to march up to them and demand they stop fighting, and he did this knowing full well that his punishment for such an action might be corporal. Your honors,” Marcus says, letting out a deep breath. “Are these the actions the foundation for a life of fear?” Marcus furrows his brows and shakes his head slowly. “I think not. In fact, I argue to you, that these are the actions of a very brave little boy.”

Marcus returns to the advocate table and takes his seat. Louis looks at him and he feels another rush of appreciation. Ileana’s opening arguments had hurt Louis and made him doubt his own integrity. What Marcus just said about him, on the other hand, managed to make him feel proud.

Chief Justice Wen speaks. “Ms. Bachchan, would you like to ask Mr. Tomlinson any questions regarding the clip?”

“No, your honor,” she responds and stands from her seat. Louis looks to Marcus who is staring intently at Ileana, as if trying to figure out her next move. Louis doesn’t understand why she doesn’t want to cross-examine him, but he takes it as a good sign and feels a bit relieved.

Just then, there is the sound of muffled laughter coming from the room next door: Harry’s Review Room. Louis looks over to Marcus and he can’t help but smile knowing that Harry’s Review is going well enough that people are laughing. Marcus winks at him and mouths, “Your boy.”

The moment is interrupted by Ileana. “I’d rather show another clip instead, your honor” Ileana says. “It’s from the same day, 4-6-14, but takes place later that evening.”

“Very well,” Justice Wen replies. Once again, the lights in the room fade out as Louis’ chair turns and faces the blank screen.

This time, the screen lights up with an interior shot of the family living room. Louis stares at the screen as the shot pans the room in its entirety. Every inch of space in that room is imprinted on Louis and he feels like he is actually there, can almost smell his mother’s vanilla candles burning as he watches the room onscreen.

After Louis’ mum and Mark divorced she kept the house and she still lives there with her second husband, Dan, and Louis’ youngest sister and brother, Doris and Ernie. The difference from how the room looks in the film clip and the last time that Louis visited home during the week of his birthday and Christmas, are mostly minimal. The wall color is still the same, and the polished wooden floors are still covered in the same vintage throw rugs. The living room furniture is different though, the worn out plaid couch and overstuffed leather chair now replaced with a sectional piece, but the new furniture is arranged in the same pattern as the old. The pictures on the wall have changed. In the film image, there are several pictures of Louis as a baby, and a framed drawing he made in nursery school, but missing are the dozens of framed pictures of his sisters and brother, photographs that were added over time as the family grew. Those pictures, along with pictures of older versions of Louis, took over the entire wall space leading up the stairs, as well as the wall behind the couch. The telly in the film is different too, a bulky box console sits atop a square stand, as opposed to the huge flat screen and sleek wooden TV cabinet Louis bought his mum for her birthday a few years back.

The camera pans to young Louis, who sits on the couch, his legs barely reaching the edge of the cushion, a bag of fruit snacks in his lap that he munches on as he watches the Disney cartoon _Peter Pan_ on the telly. The young Louis onscreen sings along to “A Pirate’s Life,” moving his arms like a tiny orchestra conductor as he practically shouts, ‘Oh, the life of a pirate for me! The life of a pirate for me!’ in time with Captain Hook’s band of buccaneers and Mr. Smee.

Louis can’t help but smile as he watches the clip. He is suddenly flooded with memories of watching _Peter Pan_ countless times as a child. It was one of his favorite movies and his mother would put it on for him whenever she had household chores or other matters to attend to. That movie always kept him thoroughly entertained.

Louis’ joy at the happy image of his child-self is short-lived however, as once again the sound of arguing voices disrupts the peacefulness of the scene. The film pans away from Louis and zooms in on his parents, who have resurrected the same fight they had in the garden earlier, and this time they seem much angrier. Louis feels his muscles tense and his stomach flip as he watches his mother and stepfather shout at one another. Like the earlier screening, he is totally encompassed by the moment.

The film breaks away from his parents and cuts back to young Louis, who carefully sets his fruit snacks on the cushion beside him and scoots off the couch. He walks over to his parents, but this time his steps are not as sure as they were earlier. In fact, he is practically tiptoeing to them, his face tentative, and his movements small.

 _Jesus,_ Louis thinks. _I had no idea they fought so much when I was little._ He watches as his younger self takes careful steps toward his parents and thinks to himself that if he is being honest, he knows his parents fought all the time. He just managed to delete many of the fighting episodes from his memory.

The young Louis onscreen stands in front of his parents and purses his lip, his expression worried. His arms hang at his side and his hands are balled in tiny fists. He looks up to his mum and stepdad and says barely above a whisper, “Stop.”

This time, his parents notice his presence immediately, but their faces don’t relax into smiles and laughter like earlier in the day. Mark leans over to Louis, his face red with rage. “Don’t you dare interrupt us if you know what’s good for you!” he shouts and Louis recoils in fear.

“Don’t you yell at my son!” his mother screams at Mark and Mark’s expression momentarily flashes pain.

“You know he’s my son too! I think of him as my son. I certainly treat him like a son, better than his real dad ever did. Especially when he’s being spoiled rotten with new trainers and more toys than any kid needs,” he shouts, his face furious.

Young Louis takes tiny steps backwards as his parents continue to yell at one another. When he reaches the landing of the staircase that sits between the entranceway and the living room, he pauses and looks back at his parents before running quickly up the steps and then down the hallway to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. The film follows him as he climbs onto his bed and curls himself into a ball. He begins to cry.

The screen fades to black and the lights come back on in the room. Louis’ seat rotates so that he is once again facing the justices. Louis’ body trembles all over and he can feel the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He is awash in sadness and worry. Worry that he made his stepfather mad. Worry that he’ll be punished. Worry over his mother being upset. He shakes his head, realizing that he is no longer living that moment, that what he just witnessed happened two and a half decades earlier and he is now safe and protected. Still, the sight of his mum defending him and the pain he saw in his stepfather’s eyes when she implied Louis’ was her child alone is resonating throughout his body.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” Chief Justice Wen says. “Sometimes, after viewing the film clips, it’s helpful to take a few deep breaths. Doing so can clear the mind of the emotions that mirror those onscreen and also help the body to return to its relaxed state. Do you want to try it?”

Louis nods his head, unable to verbally articulate a response. He takes in a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, and he immediately feels some of the gravity of the moment lift. He repeats the process, taking four or five more deep breaths before he finally begins to feel calm again, his body returning to its normal state. “Thank you,” he says to the Chief Justice and she nods her head and offers a small smile in recognition.

“Are you ready to answer some questions, Mr. Tomlinson?” she asks.

“Yes, I think so, your honor,” he replies.

The Chief Justice nods at Ileana. “Ms. Bachchan, you may begin.”

Ileana stands from her seat and slowly walks over to Louis and smiles at him kindly. Louis doesn’t know what it is about this woman, this _Dragon Lady_. He doesn’t want to like her, but when she smiles at him like this, he feels like she is being sincere. He’s utterly baffled how she can say words that hurt him deeply one minute, and then look at him with such compassion the next. It’s bizarre really.

“May I call you by your first name, Mr. Tomlinson?” Ileana asks.

“Yes, that would be fine.”

Ileana smiles. “You can call me, _Ileana_ , Mr. Tomlinson. And from here on out, I’ll call you _Louis_.”

“That seems fair,” Louis replies and a hint of a smile passes over Ileana’s lips.

“Louis,” Ileana says, her voice serious. “What was the first thing that came to your mind while viewing that clip?”

“That I can’t believe I’d forgotten that my parents fought all the bloody time,” he answers without hesitation. “Oi! Sorry for the language!” he adds, looking first at Ileana and then the justices. “I haven’t always been able to hold me tongue,” he says, momentarily slipping back into the thick Donny accent he had lost after years of living in London. He clears his throat and adds, “Right, sorry.”

“That’s quite alright, Louis,” Ileana replies and then continues her questioning. “You felt like you were reliving the moment of that evening’s fight when you watched it onscreen, yes?”

“I did,” Louis answers.

“I think we would all agree that you approached your parents much more cautiously during this clip than you did in the clip taken from earlier in the day. Why was that?”

Louis lets out a huff of breath and rubs his forehead. “I suppose, it was because this fight was so much bigger. It was louder. They were angrier. I was sc – ” Louis stops himself.

“You were going to say you were scared, weren’t you?

“I was, yes,” Louis says softly.

“So, earlier in the day, when you showed such bravery by confronting your parents, was that incident a fluke?”

“Um... I… I don’t think it was a fluke. It just was a different circumstance,” Louis answers, taken aback.

“Then why didn’t you stomp your foot and yell at them to stop their fighting in the same manner you did earlier in the day.”

“Well...” Louis takes a deep breath and thinks for a moment, allowing himself to return to that moment in time, even though it is painful. “I think I didn’t yell at them to stop because I knew this fight was much more serious. This wasn’t something that I could throw a tantrum at and make it stop. But I still wanted to.” He clears his throat, “Stop it, that is.”

“When your stepfather yelled at you, were you afraid?”

Louis nods his head. “Yeah, of course, I was. He was nearly three times my size and he could be very intimidating when he was mad.” Louis looks to Marcus who nods his head in approval.

Ileana tilts her head and squints her eyes, studying Louis. “So, during the earlier incident, when you confronted your parents and actually shouted at them, you weren’t worried about repercussions, were you?”

Louis shakes his head, confused. “No. I suppose I was going on instinct.”

Ileana nods her head. “Very interesting,” she says. “So your instinct during the first incident was to break up the fight?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And during the second incident, your instinct was to be cautious, to be afraid, because you knew that during this incident, the stakes were higher?”

“I…” Louis doesn’t have a chance to finish the thought before Ileana continues.

“The first incident was little more than a squabble, Louis, but when it came to confronting your parents on something more serious, something that could have real consequences for you, you were afraid. You backed down. You retreated to your bedroom and you cried.”

“No!” Louis responds, his voice sure. “I didn’t run upstairs and cry because I was afraid. I ran upstairs and cried because of what my mum said to Mark, about how I was _her_ son. Mark always felt like a real father to me and he treated me like his real son. But whenever they argued the fact that he wasn’t always came up and it…” Louis shakes his head. He can feel moisture in the corner of his eyes and he is not going to cry again today. He absolutely is not. “It just really hurt, is all. I don’t think they knew how much talking about the fact that Mark wasn’t my birth father in front of me hurt me.”

There is a solid minute where the Review Room is silent, the only sound the soft patter of Ileana’s feet pacing back and forth across the carpeted floor. Finally, she turns and looks at Louis, her voice soft, and her expression kind.

“I understand that such a thing could be very painful for a child to hear, Louis,” Ileana says. “But let’s be honest. You were afraid the moment you climbed off that couch and walked towards your parents. You were fearful when you approached them, and you looked absolutely terrified when your stepfather reprimanded you. Everyone in this courtroom could see that.”

“Yes,” Louis answers and holds his head high. “But I still did it.”

Ileana tilts her head and looks at Louis for a long moment. “I have nothing further, your honors,” she says, and then returns to her seat.

Louis lets out a sigh of relief. He feels good. He feels incredible, actually. He knows he did well when being questioned by Ileana and he’s proud of himself for standing his ground.

“Mr. Diamond, do you have any questions for your client?” Chief Justice Wen asks.

“I think Louis spoke clearly enough for himself.” Marcus looks at Louis and Louis can tell that Marcus is proud of him. It’s a great feeling. “But I would like to reiterate what Louis said in response to Ms. Bachchan’s last question. Louis was afraid when he approached his parents. And he was right to feel that way; self-preservation is one of the most basic of human instincts after all. The consequences for being disrespectful to his stepfather could be quite harsh, as we learned earlier. But Louis forged ahead and did what he thought was right. There may have been trepidation in his steps, but he approached his parents nonetheless. He put his fears aside and he confronted them.”

Marcus looks over to Louis and nods his head, a slight smile on his face. “Ms. Bachchan used the evening incident between Louis and his parents as a means of showing Louis’ fear. But if anything, that scene once again shows Louis’ bravery, a level of bravery that is impressive for such a young child.”

Marcus returns to the table and sits down. Louis catches him and Ileana exchanging looks, an obvious smirk on Marcus’ face.

“Well then,” Chief Justice Wen says, looking at her watch. She leans over and confers with the co-justices for a moment and then again speaks. “Both the delegate and the advocate have presented their cases for this morning’s clips. The time now is 12:45. This seems like a good place to end the morning session. We’ll convene back in this room at 3 o’clock.” The three justices stand and Marcus, Louis, and Ileana follow suit, remaining in place until the justices have exited the Review Room.

“You had a good morning, Louis,” Ileana says with a smile. “I’m happy for you.” She gathers up her briefcase, nodding to Marcus as leaves the room.

“Well that was nice of her to say,” Louis comments, walking over to Marcus. Marcus raises one eyebrow in response.

“Do not let her get into your head, Louis. Trust me when I tell you she is just getting started.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Louis says and then adds, “Sorry, Marcus.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me. I just want you to be alert and on your toes around her. She’s incredibly smart and I don’t want her to catch you off guard. Which she will do, if you forget for a minute that she’s here to send you back to Earth.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

“You did great this morning, Louis. Amazing really. I’m very proud of you.”

“Thanks, Marcus,” Louis answers, and the two share a fist bump.

“Alright, now go wait for your boy to get out of his Review so you two lovebirds can have lunch. I suggest grabbing something to eat at one of the food trucks. There are several that park about a block North of the Review Center and the food they serve is incredible. Then you two can eat in the park or someplace quiet.”

“That’s a great suggestion. Thanks, mate.” Louis looks at Marcus for a moment and then says, “Um. Do you want to have lunch with us Marcus? I’m sure the food trucks serve that horrible slop you enjoy.”

Marcus laughs, “Nah, but thanks, Louis. I have some notes I want to look over before the afternoon session. Go enjoy your lunch with Harry. But you might want to set an alarm to make sure you get back here on time. I know how love can really screw with punctuality.”

“Ha. Ha,” Louis deadpans, and then he grins as he heads out the Review Room door. “See you in two, Marcus.”

Louis steps into the hallway, which is empty and quiet, the Reviews being held in the various rooms that line either side of the corridor still in session. He walks over to Room 4606 and longing to hear Harry’s voice, is just about to press his ear to the door when it opens and he jumps back, standing out of the way. Out walk three justices wearing the same black robes and starched white collars as the justices who are presiding over Louis’ Review. The justices are followed by a man wearing a tweed suit and bright red bow tie. The man stops in his tracks and turns back to the doorway, sticking his head inside the room and says, “Quite a pleasure this morning, Harry. I’m looking forward to the afternoon session.” He steps back out and nods and smiles at Louis as he passes, traversing the short distance to the lifts and stepping onto the first one that arrives. Louis turns and watches the man, curious.

“Louis!” Warmth showers over Louis as he hears Harry’s deep voice calling out to him. He turns around to face the Review Room and sees Harry rushing towards him, his long legs taking huge strides to reach him quickly. Harry practically slams his body into him as he pulls Louis into his arms, hugging him tightly. Louis thinks he is the luckiest man in the universe.

“How did it go, Lou?” Harry whispers and Louis feels a rush of affection at Harry’s nickname for him.

“It was good, actually,” Louis answers and then squeezes Harry tight before pulling away and looking at him directly. “It started off a bit rocky, but then it picked up. I feel pretty good about it all-in-all, so that’s a relief.”

Harry’s expression turns serious, “I’m sorry you had a rough start. You don’t deserve that.”

“No, no!” Louis says, “It was fine, I promise you. Much better than I expected going in. I was really nervous at first, but it was actually okay.” He reaches up and without thought brushes a loose curl that has flopped over Harry’s cheek behind his ear, Harry smiling at the intimate gesture. “I want to hear about your session, how did it go?”

“It was really great,” Harry answers, his deep voice like warm honey. Louis licks his lips and tries not to stare at Harry’s mouth as he speaks, but his lips are so pink and full. He looks up into Harry’s eyes and they sparkle as if Harry knows Louis is fighting a silent war over which to choose, Harry’s raspberry lips or Harry’s emerald eyes. _God, they’re both so bloody perfect_ , Louis thinks, as Harry continues on. “The delegate is so nice, and really funny. You might have seen him leave? Tweed suit. Bow tie?”

“Oh yes, I did see him,” Louis answers, suddenly pulled out of his reverie. Then he fully registers what Harry just said and he raises his eyebrows in question. “Did you just say your delegate is funny?”

“Oh yeah, he’s amazing. Had some really good one-liners about my clip. It was a lot of fun actually. And your session, Louis, was it fun?”

Louis grins and shakes his head slowly. “I wouldn’t actually call my session fun, but I think this morning went well. I feel really good.”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me all about it, but first, I’m starving. Any ideas on where you want to eat lunch?”

“Marcus suggested some food trucks that are about a block from here. Then we could eat our lunch in the park?”

“That sounds brilliant,” Harry replies. He leans in and whispers to Louis, “Then I get to have you all for myself.”

Louis feels a rush of desire at Harry’s implication. He is about to go in for another attempt at a kiss when Sam walks out of the Review Room and stands in front of them, looking back and forth between the two before speaking.

“Well, Louis, I hope your first session went well,” she says, her voice friendly.

“I think it did, yes,” Louis answers.

“That’s excellent,” Sam responds, but she sounds a bit distracted. “Is Marcus still in your Review Room?” she asks, changing the subject. “I need to talk to him.”

“Yeah, he said he had to look over some paperwork.”

“Great. I’ll stop in and see him, then. Harry, you need to be back here by three sharp,” Sam says and then tilts her head and adds, “You might want to set an alarm, so you’re not late.” She turns and chuckles as she walks away.

“That’s exactly what Marcus told me,” Louis says and Harry looks at him and shrugs his shoulders, nodding toward the lifts.

The two walk over to the lifts and Louis hits the down button. Harry reaches out and takes Louis’ hand and their fingers intertwine, a soft tingle spreading across Louis’ palm and fingertips as a result of the contact. Louis rubs his thumb along the side of Harry’s and the two turn and stare at one another as they wait for the lift to arrive.

“Your eyes are so beautiful, Harry,” Louis says dreamily and without forethought, and then he briefly lowers his head in embarrassment at his own words.

 _Jesus, Tommo. Play it cool will you?_ But Louis doesn’t want to play it cool. He wants to tell Harry everything; he doesn’t want a single secret between them and so he raises his head and once again their eyes meet.

“My eyes are nothing compared to yours, Lou,” Harry says, wistfully staring at Louis like he is looking at masterpiece in the British Museum. “Your eyes… They’re so blue... So blue, but also a touch of grey. They’re like an ocean I would happily drown in.”

Louis can’t control his grin and he blushes as he smiles at Harry.

“Oh god! That was so bloody cheesy,” Harry says and slaps his hand on his forehead. “I tend to be a bit free with the romantic analogies, you’ll have to excuse me.”

“I quite like romantic analogies,” Louis replies and his body starts to thrum with anticipation as he takes a step closer. Harry’s expression softens and he seems completely relaxed and at ease as he raises Louis’ hand to his mouth and presses it to his lips. Louis draws in a breath. He feels heat shoot up from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.

“Harry,” he whispers and Harry offers the slightest nod in response, his eyes locked on Louis’.

The bell chimes and the lift doors open, the car empty. Louis steps in first and pulls Harry inside behind him. He reaches out and hits the Lobby button and the doors begin to close but they haven’t even reached the halfway point before Louis turns to Harry and walks him backwards until Harry is standing against the lift’s sidewall.

Harry slides down a few inches, his feet spreading as he pulls Louis between his legs. Louis presses against Harry’s body, sliding one hand behind his neck while the other rests on Harry’s broad shoulder. Harry lets out the softest moan as Louis noses along his jaw line and then mouths against his ear, “Shall we try again?”

“Please, yes,” Harry breathes and that’s all the prompting Louis needs. He pulls back and looks him in the eyes and Harry smiles at him all sleepy-like as if he has just awoken from the best dream of his life, his gaze fond, his upturned lips full and welcoming.

Louis leans in and presses his mouth against Harry’s and his lips are so buttery soft that Louis almost can’t believe they are real. He pulls slightly back and then presses in again, at first gently smacking his own lips fully against Harry’s and then, after kissing him one, two, three times in quick succession, slotting his lips between them, as they both tilt their heads and press firmer, desiring something deeper.

Louis feels electricity buzzing through his body with each soft kiss, as if two pieces of wire are being joined together, creating an electric spark each time they make contact.

“God, your lips are so…” Louis whispers, pausing mid-sentence to bring his mouth to Harry’s again, needing to feel his lips on his own. He leans his forehead against Harry’s. “Your lips are so soft, Harry,” he says and exhales a warm puff of breath over Harry’s mouth. “So plush.” Harry chases Louis’ lips and once again their mouths connect, each press longer than the one before.

“Your lips are delicious,” Harry answers. “They taste like strawberries.” He kisses him again, “So moist,” and again, “so sweet.”

Louis flicks his tongue, licking it over Harry’s bottom lip and Harry parts his mouth to let it slide inside. Louis groans as his tongue glides over Harry’s and as they start to lick into each other Harry wraps his hands around Louis’ waist and pulls him in closer, so that Louis is slotted fully between Harry’s spread legs, their chests and hips flush, their groins pressed firmly together.

“Jesus, Harry” Louis moans, and kisses him deeper, their tongues delving into each other’s mouths, their hands sliding over each other’s bodies as their kisses becomes more passionate, their touches more frantic.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” Louis whispers and he runs his hands up Harry’s arms and along his shoulders until they are cradling his neck, Louis’ thumbs resting on either side of Harry’s jaw. Harry slides his hands up Louis’ back, pulling him impossibly closer, the heat between them almost overwhelming.

“I’ve never felt like this with anyone, Louis. _Ever_ ,” Harry emphasizes and Louis practically growls in response, his hips slowly starting to circle against Harry’s.

“I know. I feel the same way, like I waited my whole life for you, only to find you on the other side.” He pulls away from Harry and looks at him, Louis’ eyes wide with apprehension. “Jesus, was that too much? I don’t want to – ” Harry cuts him off with another kiss.

“Not too much, Lou,” Harry says and kisses Louis again. “We’re not on Earth anymore. We shouldn’t waste time playing games.” He pulls back and points his fingers back and forth between them. “This is real, yeah? I know that what I feel for you is real.”

“It’s real, Harry,” Louis answers and then crashes his lips back into Harry’s. Harry spins him around so that Louis’ back is against the wall; Louis panting hotly as Harry licks his mouth and then flicks his tongue inside.

“Please,” Louis whispers, but before he can finish his sentence, the lift bell chimes and the car comes to a stop.

“Fuck,” Harry cries and throws his head back in exasperation. Louis steps away from Harry and shakes his head in disbelief. They’ve barely had time to separate, the two quickly adjusting their tupas and trying to get their breathing under control when the doors open and in strolls a middle-aged woman pushing a large utility cart full of mops, brooms and other cleaning supplies, an oversize trashcan loaded in front.

“Good afternoon,” she says happily and despite their overheated condition, Louis and Harry somehow manage to smile and offer her a friendly “Good afternoon” in return.

The woman walks over to the floor panel, her finger hovering over the button marked _2_ , and Louis feels like he’s been doused in a bucket of ice water, his sweet and sexy lift interlude with Harry completely interrupted. He looks at Harry and Harry appears to be thinking the same thing. He rolls his eyes at Louis and then smiles, shrugging his shoulders.

Just then, the woman turns around and looks at the two of them, her eyes dancing back and forth between Louis and Harry as if she is solving a great mystery. Louis has seen that look before and is starting to get used to it. The woman tilts her head and smiles, turning around and pressing the button marked _26_ , which happens to be the floor directly below. The doors close and the lift goes down a single floor, and once again the lift bells chime and the doors open. The woman pushes her cart off the lift and as she exits the car she winks and says, “You gentlemen enjoy your ride.”

“What just happened?” Harry whispers, shaking his head in confusion.

“I don’t know and I don’t care, as long as I’ve got you alone again.”

“Come here then,” Harry says with a grin as he pulls Louis’ body towards his own. The lift doors close and the car continues its descent. Harry wraps his arms around Louis and brings their mouths together in a deep kiss, Louis’ tongue immediately sliding into Harry’s mouth and Harry’s tongue greedily gliding against it in return.

The lift bell chimes.

“No fucking way!” Louis practically shouts, but he can’t help but laugh, Harry shaking his head and giggling in response. Once again he and Harry quickly pull apart and try to straighten themselves out before the lift doors open. Louis looks up at the display panel and notes that they are on the twenty-first floor. The lift comes to a complete stop and then the doors open, but nobody steps inside. Louis looks at Harry, his face slightly baffled and then walks over to the open doors and peers outside. There is nobody there.

“That’s odd,” Louis says and turns to face Harry. Harry doesn’t wait for the doors to close before he has once again pulled Louis into his arms. He rubs his nose against Louis’ and whispers, “Let’s pray for no more interruptions, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers and gently bites Harry’s bottom lip as the lift begins to move. Harry takes a couple steps back so that he can lean against the lift’s sidewall and Louis follows him, eager to again stand between Harry’s spread legs and press his body firmly against his. Harry leans in for a kiss and then a thought springs to Louis’ mind. “Wait a minute,” he says and pulls away from Harry.

Harry’s face scrunches into a frustrated pout and it’s so adorable that Louis can’t help himself from leaning forward and quickly pecking him on the lips before turning to face the lift’s floor panel. “What are you doing?” Harry asks.

Louis’ eyes rapidly scan the panel and he mutters, “I just need three minutes. Three minutes of uninterrupted snogging. I don’t think that’s too much to – Ah-ha!” he says and looks over his shoulder at Harry and grins. He turns back towards the panel and pulls a large black knob that is located right next to the lift’s emergency telephone. The car instantly slows and then comes to a rapid halt, the car jolting as it stops, suspended somewhere between the sixteenth and fifteenth floor.

Harry’s face breaks into a wide smile, his deep dimple popping, a soft pink blush spreading over his cheeks. “Louis,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Did you just pull the emergency brake?”

“I did,” Louis answers and he steps toward Harry, who opens his arms to receive him. “I just need three minutes with you. Three minutes to snog you properly and then we can go eat lunch.”

“Should I set my watch, Harry teases, as he pulls Louis closer, his legs automatically spreading to accommodate Louis’ smaller frame.

“Nah. Let’s just be in the moment,” Louis says and then he tilts his head upwards and closes his mouth over Harry’s. He feels Harry relax immediately into him, his mouth responsive, his lips soft and pliant.

It isn’t long before the gentle smack of their lips turns into something deeper, Louis first lightly nipping Harry’s bottom lip and then licking over it with his tongue. Louis feels electric and hot all over, his heart rate quickening as Harry spreads his large hand across Louis' back, his other hand sliding over his arse and squeezing. Louis whimpers as Harry pulls him so close that there isn’t a breath of space between them.

Harry slightly juts his hips forward and his groin rubs against Louis’, both of them moaning at the contact. Louis feels dizzy, his senses on overload, his body desiring more. He can feel heat pooling in his pelvis, his cock coming fully to life as he continues to lick into Harry’s mouth. Louis’ grasps either side of Harry’s face, yet he doesn’t feel close enough to him, the longing to have _more_ overwhelming.  

He shifts his body slightly and can feel that Harry is just as aroused as he is and he can’t help himself from moving his hips in a slow circle so that their cocks, shrouded between two layers of tupas and pants, rut against each other.

“Oh god, that’s good,” Harry says, his voice breaking on the last syllable. “You’re fucking amazing, do you know that Louis?” he asks, his voice reverent.

Louis does the move again and his head lulls back and his eyes fall shut. Harry slides his hand further up Louis’ back and then over his neck, cradling his head. He leans in and Louis feels delicious pressure bordering on pain as Harry clamps his mouth over his neck and begins to suck and bite at Louis’ tender flesh.

“Harder,” Louis whispers, and Harry bites down again, his teeth nearly puncturing the milky tissue below Louis’ ear. “Bloody hell, don’t stop,” Louis groans, as Harry takes his mouth away to lick at Louis’ reddening skin. “Feels like I’m on fire.” Harry bites back down and Louis again circles his hips against Harry’s, both groaning as their bodies make contact. Harry releases his lips from Louis’ neck and the motion makes a loud popping noise as the suction is broken. Their mouths quickly find each other and Louis feels his body practically dissolve into the kiss; it’s absolutely perfect in every conceivable way.

“Perfect,” he whispers as his lips press against Harry’s.

“Perfect,” Harry repeats and Louis can feel Harry’s smile against his lips.

“Gentlemen, it’s been five minutes.”

Louis pulls his mouth away from Harry’s and looks at him, suddenly confused. “What did you just say?”

“I said ‘perfect’,” Harry responds and leans in to kiss Louis again. Louis shakes his head, his expression baffled.

“So sorry to interrupt, but you requested three minutes of privacy and I’ve given you five.”

Harry’s eyes widen in shock and Louis’ mouth drops open. “Who said that?” Louis asks, still clinging to Harry, the two of them looking around the lift car to see where the voice is coming from.

“Look up,” the disembodied voice replies and Louis and Harry both look at the ceiling.

The voice chuckles. “Not that far, gentlemen. Look up above the floor panel.”

They both see it at the same time: the video camera mounted in the corner of the lift’s ceiling. Directly below the camera and above the floor panel is an intercom speaker and Louis realizes that it’s the origin of the voice.

Harry grins and waves dopily at the camera and Louis wants to pull him back into his arms and kiss him all over his face. Instead, he takes a step away from him, but first reaches out and takes his hand in his own.

“I’m really sorry,” Louis says, looking directly into the camera. “I didn’t…” Harry squeezes his hand and Louis looks at him and the two smile at one another. Louis looks back to the camera. “ _We_ didn’t know anyone was watching.”

“Oh! That’s quite all right, Mr. Tomlinson. I promise you, I wasn’t watching, it’s just when the lift stopped I had to make sure everyone on board was all right. And you appeared to be… All right, that is.”

Louis can feel the flush spreading over his cheeks and while he’s embarrassed, he also thinks the situation is rather funny and so he shakes his head and laughs softly. He looks back at the camera and asks, “How do you know my name?”

“Oh! Right! I met you this morning, in the lobby, sir. My name is Ed.”

Louis nods his head in recognition. “Yes, Ed! Red hair?” he asks to confirm.

“Yep, the ginger bloke!” Ed happily replies.

“I thought you were a greeter?” Louis asks, suddenly strangely interested in knowing more about Ed. Harry drops Louis’ hand and encircles his arm around Louis’ waist and Louis feels a rush of affection. He points to Harry. “This is Harry, by the way. Harry Styles. He’s my…” Louis looks at Harry and Harry stares back at him, the two once again caught in their own little world.

Ed clears his throat.

“Right,” Louis says.

“Hello, Ed,” Harry says, a warm smile spreading across his face as he again waves at the camera. He pulls Louis a smidge closer and gently squeezes his hip.

“Hello there, Mr. Styles” Ed replies. “In answer to your question Mr. Tomlinson, I work as a greeter in the mornings and during the afternoons I cover the lifts. It’s a nice change of pace and keeps things… Interesting.”

“Shit,” Louis says. “We’re so sorry, Ed. I promise it won’t happen again and please call me Louis,” he rambles, all in one breath.

“No problem at all, I’m monitoring twenty lifts and I promise that I barely saw anything. But it’s officially lunch hour now and there are a lot of people who are trying to get to the lobby, so if you could just press that black knob you can be on your way.”

“Oh right! Sorry!” Louis says, as he leans over and pushes the emergency brake knob back in. The lift immediately comes to life and the car stutters slightly before beginning a smooth descent.

“Enjoy your lunch, gentlemen,” Ed says and then adds, “Um. I’ll arrange it so your lift doesn’t make any more stops before reaching the ground floor. You might want to straighten up a bit. Just a suggestion,” he says, his tone friendly.

Louis and Harry look one another over and Louis whispers, “Jesus, we’re a mess.” He looks at the camera and gives it the thumbs up. “Thanks for the tip, Ed! Hope to see you again. In different circumstances, I mean.”

“No problem Louis.” Ed replies and then chuckles. “I’d start with your belt. Have a lovely afternoon, gentlemen.”

Louis looks down and sure enough his belt is hanging half off his tupa. It must have come unfastened when he was rutting up against Harry and so he takes it off completely, smoothing the fabric of the tupa and adjusting his cock through the layers of material, an embarrassed grin on his face as he once again secures the belt around his waist. Harry grins back, as he adjusts his own cock. “We’re a mess,” he giggles.

Louis reaches out to Harry then and fixes Harry’s loose belt and Harry holds out his arms and smiles as Louis adjusts Harry’s garment, running his hands up and down his sides and making sure Harry’s tupa isn’t bunched or wrinkled.

“Gorgeous,” Louis whispers when he finishes primping Harry and Harry leans in and pecks his lips.

“Can I?” Harry asks, as he reaches out to run his fingers through Louis’ fringe.

“Yeah, of course,” Louis answers and then Harry combs his fingers through Louis’ hair, fluffing the style back into place.

“ _You’re_ gorgeous,” Harry says, satisfied with his work and he leans in to give Louis another soft kiss. He does the tussle thing with his own hair and Louis has seen him do it at least four times now and he still finds it utterly endearing. Harry glides his hand through his hair until he reaches the back of his head and then he leans forward and brushes his hand up and down, fluffing his hair up. He then swoops his hair over at the part and tugs on the end piece.

“Locking it in place,” Louis whispers and Harry looks at him and blushes.

“It’s kind of a habit,” he says and then smiles. “Maybe more like a ritual. I don’t know. My mum told me once that she counted me doing that ‘hair thing’ six times during the course of one evening.” Harry giggles and Louis just stares at him, his heart full. “I don’t even realize I’m doing it half the time.” His voice tapers off as Louis leans up and kisses him full on the lips.

“I think it’s wonderful,” he says and he reaches to tuck a loose strand behind Harry’s ear. “I think you’re wonderful.”

The lift chimes, heralding its arrival on the ground floor. Harry gazes at Louis as the doors open and the sounds of the crowded lobby invade the car, the quiet disrupted by clicking heels and animated conversations.

Louis takes Harry’s hand in his own. “Come on Harry,” he says, as their fingers intertwine. “Let’s go get lunch.”


	6. Snogging in the Park

Louis and Harry walk out of the Review Center holding hands and swinging their arms back and forth between their bodies like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

“That was pretty fun, yeah?” Louis asks, as they walk along the foot-pavement and head for the row of food trucks the next block over.

“In the lift?” Harry grins. “We were downright indecent. It was the most fun I’ve had in as long as I can remember.” Louis stops in his tracks and turns to Harry. He steps up on his toes, smiling as he gently brushes his lips against Harry’s mouth. Harry strokes his thumb across Louis’ cheek. “It was more than fun, actually,” Harry adds, his voice serious. “I still can’t believe this is really happening.”

“Believe it, Hazza!” Louis exclaims and then his mouth drops open and his face breaks into a smile. “What did I just call you?” he asks shaking his head in disbelief. Harry moves in closer, sliding his hand around Louis’ waist and pulling him in close to press his lips against his cheek.

“ _Hazza_. You definitely called me, ‘Hazza’.” Harry squints his eyes as if pondering the name in his head. “It’s kind of nice, actually. Nobody called me that on Earth.” He kisses Louis on the tip of his nose and Louis grins.

“Nobody ever called you that? Well, this is a first then. I like having firsts with you,” Louis says sincerely, and Harry leans in for another kiss, pressing his lips firmly against Louis’, their mouths slotting together and pulling apart in repeated kisses that make Louis dizzy. “Shit, Harry,” he says clearing his throat. “Maybe we should go get some food.”

Harry nods his head and kisses Louis again in response. “I could definitely eat,” he says and the two pull apart and continue their walk toward the awaiting row of brightly colored food trucks.

As the trucks come into view, the options seem overwhelming. “Let’s see,” Louis says. “We have fish and chips, steak sandwiches, tacos, hamburgers, and… Good god! That’s a sushi truck!”

“I don’t know that I want to eat sushi from a truck,” Harry replies. “Even though I’ve no doubt it would be the best sushi I ever ate in my entire life.”

“Or death,” Louis and Harry say simultaneously, and then both burst out laughing.

“Actually, tacos sound really good to me right now,” Harry offers.

“I was going to suggest the fish and chips,” Louis replies. “But how about we get both, and then we can share?”

“That sounds great, Lou,” Harry answers, squeezing Louis’ hand in his own. “I’ll go get the tacos and you get the fish and chips, and then we can meet back here and then find a quiet place to eat.”

Louis nods his head and says with a wink, “I’ll try to be quick.” He turns to walk towards the fish and chips truck and has taken two or three steps when he feels Harry wrap his arms around his waist, pulling him in so that Louis’ back is flush against Harry’s chest. Harry kisses Louis on the side of his neck and then presses his lips to Louis’ ear. “How come I already miss you? It’s absolutely ridiculous I should miss you when I’m holding you in my arms.”

Louis turns around and faces Harry, nuzzling his cheek on Harry’s neck. “Don’t know, but I feel the same way. It’s like, I don’t want to let you out of my sight.”

“Let’s get the food together then, yeah?” Harry asks, and Louis can’t help but agree.

They stop first at the taco stand and order barbeque pork tacos covered in cheese and pineapple salsa, along with two large cups of icy limeade. At the fish and chips stand, they order batter-dipped cod and a side of chips, dousing the chips in salt and vinegar and grabbing a handful of napkins as they ask the vendor directions to the closest park.

“You’re in luck, mates,” the vendor smiles, and then he point’s his thumb to the left. “One of Judgment City’s most beautiful parks is only two blocks west and it has a lovely picnic area.”

Louis reaches behind his back and slides his hand along his bum, absently reaching for a wallet that isn’t there. The vendor grins, “It’s hard to get used to at first, innit? Ordering food and not being expected to pay for it.”

“Yeah,” Louis replies. “It really is. I keep trying to tip people, and you don’t even want to know how many times I’ve reached for my cell phone.”

“You’ll get used to it,” the vendor says with a smile. “If, of course, you stick around.” He offers Louis a friendly wink, but Louis can’t help but feel a bit nervous at the inference. He thanks the vendor for the food and then he and Harry walk along the designated route until they approach the park.

It’s absolutely breathtaking.

“This is fantastic,” Harry says slowly, his deep voice full of awe. They walk the cobblestone path through the parks’ main entrance and the two stand there for a minute, taking in the view. “I’ve never seen so many flowers.”

“Me either,” Louis answers, “and the colors, it’s just so beautiful.”

There are blooms everywhere. Lining the pathway into the park are thick bushes of bright red Tudor roses, while beds of orange narcissus, pink thistle and yellow primrose encircle the willow, cherry and silver maple trees that pepper the lush green landscape. Patches of white daffodils, daisies and lily of the valley grow along with purple lavender, red poppies and blue violets in seemingly random groupings all over the bright green lawn. There is a large lake: its water so clear Louis can see bass and bluegill swimming below its surface. Huge green and white water lilies float atop the water, and dragonflies and butterflies flit about.

“Oh, look, we can eat over there,” Harry says, pointing to a picnic area just to the left of the lake. The area is as beautiful as the rest of the park, with a dozen or so picnic tables spaced far enough apart to afford a measure of privacy for the Intakes and Residents who sit at the tables eating their lunches and relaxing in the afternoon sun.

“I think this park is what I thought heaven would be like,” Louis says, completely awestruck. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” he asks Harry as they approach a picnic table that sits beneath a willow tree.

Harry looks at Louis and winks, “Only once,” he answers, and Louis feels warm all over. Harry clears his throat and points to the table. “Where do you want to sit?” he asks, and Louis answers simply, “Next to you.”

And so it’s decided; the two sit side by side beneath a weeping willow tree facing the most beautiful lake Louis has ever seen. It’s without a doubt the most romantic setting Louis has ever been in during the course of his entire existence and he doesn’t want the afternoon to end.

They spread out their lunch on the table and Harry rubs Louis’ back with one hand, and with the other he holds a taco up to Louis’ mouth, offering him the first bite. Louis looks at Harry, raising an eyebrow and then chomps down on the soft tortilla shell. “Oh dear god,” Louis groans as he chews, the smoky barbecue pork combining with the sweet tang of the pineapple on his tongue in a perfect, culinary symphony. “Try, it Hazza. It’s the most amazing taco I’ve ever eaten.”

Harry turns the taco to his own lips and Louis watches him as he bites down, unable to tear his eyes away from Harry’s mouth, a small drop of pineapple juice trickling down his lip. “So good, Louis,” Harry says, then darts out his tongue to lick up the juice.

“I could watch you eat all day,” Louis says. He picks up a chip and directs it at Harry’s mouth, and Harry opens his mouth wide to receive it. But Louis feels like playing, so he pulls the chip away and then moves it quickly to the side and then up, Harry chasing after it like a frustrated puppy. Finally, Harry slaps his hand over Louis’ to hold it steady and chomps down on the chips. “Oh, Lou,” he says, his expression dazed, “you’ve got to try them, they’re so crunchy and delicious.” He then pulls Louis’ hand up to his mouth, licking the tips of Louis’ greasy fingers, Louis drawing in a breath at the sensation.

“Holy hell, Harry,” he whines. “You’re going to kill me all over again.”

Harry just giggles and hands Louis a piece of fish.

The two continue eating their lunch, sharing bites of taco and chunks of battered fish, feeding each other chips and sharing drinks of icy cold limeade, the whole experience sweet and highly charged, until their food is gone.

After they’ve finished eating, they gather all the wrappers and their empty beverage cups and toss them into a nearby trashcan. They decide to take a stroll through the park and walk hand in hand as they follow different pathways through flower and topiary gardens until they happen upon a secluded area tucked behind a row of poplar trees and bordered on three sides by rose bushes. In the center of the area is a large reflecting pool lined in different shades of blue mosaic tile. A large park bench faces the pool and Harry nods his head toward it, whispering, “Let’s have a seat, yeah?” in Louis’ ear.

The two sit down and face each other, Louis pulling one leg behind his bum while the other dangles freely, gently swaying back and forth over the lush green grass. Harry reaches out and pulls Louis’ hand into his own and Louis looks up at him beneath long eyelashes and then shakes his head slightly, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Is this all too much?” Harry asks. “I don’t want to push you.”

“No! God. Absolutely not,” Louis says, his voice a bit loud. He lets out a deep breath. “It’s just, I can’t believe this is real, actually. Yesterday, I saw you in that waiting room and I… I just… Well, I can’t explain it really; I never felt anything like that before.” He looks up at Harry and smiles shyly. “And today, here we are, snogging in lifts, holding hands, sharing lunch, and it’s just… well it’s just everything I ever wanted, Harry.”

“Lou,” Harry whispers.

“Shit! Now I’ve said too much.”

“No, you haven’t,” Harry answers, his deep voice tender. “It’s so strange and it seems so fast, but… _same_ , Louis. I feel exactly the same.”

“This is happening?” Louis asks and he feels like he is laying himself bare with one simple question.

“This is happening,” Harry repeats. “I’m in if you’re in, Louis,” he says.

Louis can’t control the smile that spreads across his lips. He can feel the pull at the corners of his eyes as crinkles form, his whole being overtaken in happiness. He ducks his head briefly then looks Harry in the eyes.

“Yeah, I’m in, Harry. Of course.”

Harry leans in and wraps his hand behind Louis’ neck, pulling him close for a kiss. It starts out soft, just two pairs of lips quietly pressing together, fireworks shooting off behind Louis’ eyelids each time they connect.

Louis grazes his fingertips across Harry’s cheek and presses firmer and before long, soft kisses have turned into something far more passionate, Harry sliding his tongue into Louis’ mouth and Louis moaning happily at the intrusion.

“You’re such a good kisser, Harry,” Louis breathes and rubs his forehead against Harry’s, cupping his cheeks and pulling him in again for wetter, longer kisses.

Harry scoots closer on the bench, sliding his arms beneath Louis’ and pulling his body against his. Louis feels lightheaded; of all the kisses he experienced during his lifetime, none of them came close to the post-death kisses he’s shared with Harry in the last half hour.

Harry pulls away and presses a kiss to the tip of Louis’ nose, dotting another on either cheek. He then looks Louis in the eyes. “I’m so happy we found each other,” he says. His expression is open and full of wonder as he whispers, “How did we even get here, Louis?”

Louis grins, his eyes crinkling as he chuckles, “Well, I got here in a San Marino Blue BMW M6 convertible that I drove for about…” he pulls out his arm and looks at his wristwatch, raising an eyebrow and then tilting his head from side to side as he shrugs his shoulders, “twelve minutes.”

“Oh shit,” Harry says, his eyes wide. “You were in a car accident, Lou? I’m so sorry.” Louis nods his head in response. Harry pouts his bottom lip and worries his brow. “Wait a minute. Did you just say you were driving an M6? That’s a really nice car, Louis. I hope it wasn’t totaled.”

“Oh, well… Um… I don’t know,” Louis stammers. “About the car, that is, I’m not sure if –”

“Louis!” Harry interrupts, and pulls Louis in for a hug. “I was _kidding_. I don’t care about the car, other than that it brought you to me.”

Louis elbows Harry in the ribs. “You little shit,” he whispers. He tries to keep a straight face but only manages a few second before he is grinning at Harry and shaking his head. “It _was_ a really nice car though, Harry. God. I would have loved to take you for a ride.”

Harry raises his eyebrows and licks his lips and Louis feels his cheeks flush pink. He rolls his eyes and says in faux exasperation, “A ride in the _car_ , Harry! Jesus. Such a dirty mind.”

Harry grins and looks down at his lap and when he looks up again, his expression is serious and Louis sees worry in his eyes. “It was quick, I hope. You didn’t suffer, did you, Louis?”

Louis takes Harry’s hand in his. “It was very fast, Harry. I didn’t suffer at all.” He reaches out and tucks a loose piece of hair behind Harry’s ear, this simple act quickly becoming one of his favorite things to do. “You’re so lovely to ask me that though.”

“What happened? You said it was a new car, yeah?

“Yeah. My best mate Liam drove me to pick it up and we had a great morning together, the best really.” Louis smiles at the memory. He’s been dead for three full days now and yet it hasn’t ceased to amaze him how much joy he feels when he thinks about the people he loved on Earth.

“Anyway, I bought the car as kind of a gift to myself. I had gotten a huge promotion at work and I had just ma – ” Louis cuts himself off, unsure of what to say. He looks at Harry and Harry’s expression is so open and kind that Louis immediately remembers that he doesn’t want anything ever but the truth between the two of them. He takes a deep breath and continues, “I had just made my last alimony payment to my ex-wife.”

“Oh, you were married?” Harry asks, his voice without judgment.

“Yeah, for a couple of years, childhood sweetheart and all that,” Louis answers, his voice only a little shaky, his nerves mostly under control. “We had a rough divorce though, ninety-nine percent of it my fault, I suppose. But we had managed to work things out in the end. I mean, we were working on being friends again, before I died.”

“Louis,” Harry replies, “you don’t owe me any explanation. It’s okay that you were married. I’m sorry your divorce was difficult, but I hope you had some wonderful times with her.”

“Who even are you?” Louis whispers and Harry smiles and presses his lips against Louis in a series of quick kisses in response. “Were you married, Harry?” he asks, his voice tentative.

“No.” Harry reaches down and runs his thumb along the top of Louis’ satin belt, the light touch causing a tingling sensation like sparklers in Louis’ belly. “I had been in a serious relationship for nearly four years, but the last two of them were pretty miserable. But then, about six months before I died, I found something, in a grocery store of all places, and it made me reevaluate everything I wanted in life. I ended the relationship that night and I never looked back. It was one of the best decisions I ever made.”

Louis is about to respond, about to ask Harry what he found that inspired him to break off a long and painful relationship when Harry continues, “But we’re talking about _you_ now, Louis. Finish telling me what happened.”

“Oh right!” Louis answers and clears his throat. “Where was I?” he says absently as he thinks over where he left off. “So, anyway, I bought myself a new car. BMW M6 convertible in the most beautiful shade of blue you have ever seen.”

Harry grazes his finger along the sharp cheekbone under Louis’ right eye. “I highly doubt that.” Louis feels like little bubbles are bursting beneath his skin at Harry’s touch.

“Yeah, well,” Louis answers, trying to regain his composure. “The car was beautiful. It had all the bells and whistles and it was just… I know this sounds silly, but I just felt really proud buying that car.”

“It’s not silly at all Louis. I think it’s wonderful.”

“Well, it _was_ wonderful,” Louis says and then lowers his voice, “until I drove it straight out of the dealership lot and into a truck. Rather, the truck drove into me.”

Harry draws in a breath and covers his face with both hands. “Oh God! That’s awful!” he says, shaking his head. “But you didn’t suffer, it was quick, Lou?” Louis is unsure why Harry is so preoccupied with whether or not Louis suffered during his last moments on Earth, but he finds it very moving.

“I didn’t suffer, I promise you, Harry. It was quite beautiful actually, the whole ‘life flashing before your eyes’ bit,” he says, holding up his hands and making air quotes.

Harry looks relieved. “I’m really glad, Lou. I would hate if you endured anything more.”

 _Oh shit_ , Louis thinks. He suddenly realizes that maybe Harry’s death wasn’t so easy. “So, um. What happened to you, Harry?” he asks and he feels his heartbeat begin to pick up ever so slightly in his chest. “You didn’t… Were you hurt, Harry?”

“It’s so embarrassing, Louis,” Harry answers and he looks up to the sky, frustrated.

“How can dying be embarrassing, Harry?” Louis asks, utterly confused.

“Okay, maybe that’s not the right word. But… I was just so mad about the whole thing. It just didn’t seem fair. I was a _really good_ skier.”

“Oh,” Louis says and raises his eyebrows. “You died in a skiing accident?” he asks softly.

“Well, sort of,” Harry answers, and he seems suddenly agitated. “But, like, I skied my whole life. Every winter my family went on a ski holiday. I’d skied in France, Italy, Switzerland…” Harry’s voice breaks off. It’s the first time Louis has seen Harry visibly upset and he just wants to comfort him and make him feel better. He’s starting to feel sorry this whole death topic came up. He turns over Harry’s hand in his and begins drawing a simple circular pattern across Harry’s soft palm. He can feel Harry start to relax almost immediately at Louis’ touch. Harry looks at Louis and a hint of a smile dances across his lips before he continues. “One year, we even went to America and spent two weeks skiing in Utah and Colorado. But the point is, I _knew_ how to ski, Louis,” he emphasizes.

“I believe you, Harry. I bet you were a wonderful skier.”

Harry studies Louis for a moment and his expression softens. “Shit, Louis. I’m acting like an idiot. You bought a brand new car and immediately were hit by a truck and were killed, and yet you can actually laugh about it! And I’m being so…” he runs his fingers through his hair and does his little ‘fluff, swoop, and tug’ routine that Louis has come to find so charming and then he bites his bottom lip and smiles. “I’m being so melodramatic.”

“No! No you’re not, Harry! You’ve a right to feel whatever you’re feeling about your death and those feelings are completely valid,” Louis says, drawing a heart on Harry’s palm and then sliding his fingers together with Harry’s. “You didn’t have it easy did you? We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want.”

“I _do_ want to talk about it with you. I want to talk about everything with you, Louis,” Harry answers softly and Louis has to close his eyes for a moment in order to keep his emotions in check.

“So, as I’ve made clear, I was a _really good_ skier,” Harry continues and then giggles. Louis can’t help himself and he leans in and gives Harry a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you,” Harry says at the gesture, nodding his head at Louis. Louis is hopelessly in love.

“My ex and I, we had planned a ski holiday to Andermatt, Switzerland. Booked our chalet almost a year in advance. Andermatt is one of the best places to ski in Europe; the powder is amazing.” Harry’s green eyes sparkle in the afternoon sunshine, his face lost in memory.

“I had forgotten all about the trip, to be honest. We were fighting so much and everything was so tense that last year. Then, after we had been broken up a few months, I received a reminder email from the resort confirming our reservations. The trip was still a few months off, but I’d paid for it in full when we booked, so I emailed my ex and offered to give them the trip, told them they could take anyone they liked. I guess it was sort of a peace offering.”

“Oh, Harry. That’s lovely.”

Harry chuckles. “Well, my ex didn’t think so. I almost immediately received a response and I can recite the email verbatim and in its entirety: ‘Please very kindly take this ski holiday and shove it up your arse’.”

Louis’ jaw drops and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. He looks at Harry and Harry shrugs his shoulders. The next thing he knows, they have both burst out laughing. “That’s pretty succinct,” Louis says between giggles.

“I’ll say,” Harry laughs. “But at least I can say I tried.” The two continue to chuckle and eventually their laughter dies down and Louis sees a bit of sadness return to Harry’s eyes.

“So you went on the holiday then?” Louis asks, his voice quiet.

“I went on the holiday.”

“Harry,” Louis says, but Harry cuts him off and continues speaking.

“I was going to bring Niall with me, but he was just starting a new job and really couldn’t take the time off work, so I decided to go alone. It was pretty liberating, actually. It was the first time I’d taken a trip by myself and I had three full days of perfect powder and great runs. I met some nice people and was invited to some parties at the resort, but I really just wanted to clear my head and think some things through, so I spent my nights by myself in my chalet, reading and watching telly. It was wonderful, really.”

“I’m so glad, Harry,” Louis replies sincerely, and he feels comforted by the knowledge that Harry enjoyed his last days on Earth.

“Thank you, Louis,” Harry answers, his voice soft. Harry looks out over the reflecting pool and Louis’ eyes follow. Two white ducks fly in from seemingly nowhere and land in the pool with a splash. The water is so clear that Louis can see their bright orange feet beneath the surface, gently paddling and propelling the ducks about. One duck pops his head below the water and draws it back out quickly, shaking it back and forth and hitting the second duck with the spray. The second duck ignores the shower of water, completely unbothered. Louis and Harry watch them for a minute in comfortable silence and then Harry faces Louis and once again begins to speak.

“On the morning of the fourth day, I decided I wanted to ski the Gemsstock and Giraffe, which is a huge and rather intense run, but I thought, ‘You’re here, why not go for it’?” Louis feels a chill all over his body and the hair stands up on his arms and legs. He doesn’t know if he wants to hear this. He doesn’t know if he can bear the thought of hearing about beautiful Harry losing his life. Harry must sense Louis’ worry because he leans in and kisses Louis’ cheek and says, “It’s okay, Lou. I promise, it’s okay.”

Louis nods his head, completely overwhelmed that Harry is telling him something so deeply personal and maybe even traumatic, and yet he’s worried about Louis’ feelings. He can’t help himself and he grazes his fingertips across Harry’s cheek. “You lovely, lovely man,” he whispers, and Harry places his hand over Louis’ pulling it towards his mouth and planting a soft kiss on Louis’ palm.

“I took the cable lift up the Gemsstock and I felt a bit… uneasy. I’m not sure why, I’d been skiing my whole life and had skied far more complicated courses than the ones at Andermatt, but still, something just didn’t feel right. When I stepped off the lift, I tripped and nearly landed flat on my face, which probably wasn’t the best omen,” he says and smiles ruefully. Louis bites his lips, completely mesmerized by Harry’s story. He feels sick in the pit of his stomach because he knows how this story will end, and even though Harry is here with him now and safe, he can’t help the anxiety he feels at the thought of Harry suffering.

“Anyway, I started my run and it was actually going well. It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining, the air was crisp and the mountains… Louis, the mountains were so beautiful. I just felt really happy in that moment.”

“Oh Harry,” Louis whispers and Harry squeezes his hand.

“And then it happened.” Harry shakes his head, his expression bordering on disbelief. “I’m having a perfect run one minute, enjoying the scenery, feeling so fucking alive, and the next minute I hit a sheet of ice and totally lose control.” Louis draws a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as Harry continues. “The next thing I know, my skis have shot out from under me and I’m tumbling, twisting and flipping down the side of the mountain until I thud to a stop when my head slams into a patch of ice.”

“Oh my god!” Louis practically screams. He slaps his hand over his mouth in horror, his eyes wide, his breathing heavy. “Oh my god,” he repeats. “Harry, please tell me you didn’t feel it. Please tell me it didn’t hurt.”

Louis is in shock. He knows his own death was brutal, that his body was flung to the side and violently forward like a ragdoll when his car crashed, but still, it was over in an instant. He never felt a thing. What Harry is describing, toppling down the side of a mountain and then crashing on ice, sounds like a terrifying and lengthy ordeal.

“I didn’t feel it at all, Lou,” Harry answers, his voice calm, but his eyes laced with sadness. “I promise it didn’t hurt.” Harry looks down at their joined hands and bites his bottom lip. He lets out a deep breath and then continues, “But. Um… I hung on for a few days after, and that part was pretty rough.”

 _Coma baby_.

“Coma baby,” Louis whispers, suddenly remembering a conversation he overheard bits of when he first arrived in this realm.

“What?”

Louis furrows his brows, doing his best to concentrate on his memory of that day, of what he heard when he was being wheeled through Intake. Random snippets of a conversation play out in his head and he remembers a male voice. _“He had long, chocolate brown hair… ringlets… the most perfect pink mouth… his eyes… beautiful, perfect emeralds… had to be carried onto the tram.”_

“Louis, are you okay?” Harry asks, concern written across his face.

“Harry, were you in a coma?” Louis asks and his heart sinks at the question. He remembers the sound of Beatrice and the other female nurse’s voice when the male nurse told them about the coma baby. Their voices were so compassionate and loving that Louis knows being in a coma must be a terrible experience.

“I was,” Harry answers and Louis wants to wrap him in his arms and keep him safe forever.

“It was so awful, Lou. It felt like I was stuck between two worlds.” Harry’s eyes start to become wet and Louis feels tears forming in the corners of his own eyes. “I was trying so hard to wake up, but it was like I was under water and no matter how hard I kicked, I just couldn’t reach the surface.”

“Oh Harry,” Louis says and the first teardrops begin to fall down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”

“At first, all I could hear was the beeping of machines and the voices of strangers. Everything was muffled though, and the voices were washed out. It went on like that for what seemed like forever and then, finally, I could hear my mum’s voice. It was such a relief to know she was near and I was trying so hard to get to her.” Harry shakes his head and a single tear falls down the side of his cheek. He brushes it away and then it is immediately followed by another. And another.

Louis pulls Harry into his arms and squeezes him tight. He rubs his cheek against Harry’s and whispers, “We don’t have to talk about it, Harry. I’m so sorry we brought this up. I don’t want to upset you.”

Harry pulls back and stares at Louis and then wipes a tear from beneath Louis’ eye. A small smile forms in the corners of his mouth. “It’s okay, Louis,” Harry says and he sniffles and wipes his face on his sleeve. “I want you to know. I want to tell you because I want you to know everything about me.”

Louis feels like his heart may burst. He swallows and tries to compose himself, “I want that too, Harry.” He presses a kiss to Harry’s cheeks and asks, his voice shaky, “So what happened next?”

“Well, I don’t know where I was, if they had transported me home, or if my family had flown in to be with me, but everyone was there: my mom and stepdad, Gemma, Niall, my dad. They all were talking to me and it was like their voices were coming through a tunnel, but I could make out what they were saying. At first they were telling me I was going to pull through, to hang on, and to fight, and then they were praying and whispering for me to be strong. I heard my sister sobbing, begging me to wake up and then challenging me to show her that I could do it. I heard Niall promising to take me for pints as soon as I ‘got outta thes fookin’ mad house,’” Harry says pulling an Irish accent and letting out a watery laugh.

“I think I would like your friend Niall,” Louis says his voice barely above a whisper.

“I think you would, too,” Harry answers and shakes his head. He takes a deep breath and continues. “Anyway, it went on like that for a few days. Sometimes, I could feel my sister or my dad holding my hand, or my mum stroking my cheek, but the more time passed, the further away those touches felt.”

Harry takes a moment as if trying to figure out exactly how to phrase what he is thinking. “It was so strange, Louis, because as much as I wanted to get to those voices, as much as I wanted to answer back, I knew there was something so warm and comforting waiting for me if I would just let go and drift into the deep. It was the struggle to reach the surface that was so difficult, that hurt so much, and I knew I had to let go, but I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting my family and friends. I loved them so much and didn’t want to disappoint them by not breaking through,” he says, his voice cracking.

“Harry, you know you didn’t disappoint them, don’t you? That’s not possible,” Louis says, concern flooding his voice.

“I know,” Harry answers. “It was just a really difficult time. Because the longer I was under, Lou, the more I knew that I wasn’t supposed to go back. I knew that I was meant to give in, but I kept fighting it, fighting it for _them_.”

Harry takes a deep breath and pauses for a minute, gathering his strength to continue. “But then, on the last day, my mum held my hand, and I could really feel her touch. I felt it more than I had in the previous two days, and she told me that it was okay, and her voice was so precious, Louis, and I could hear her words so clearly. She told me that she loved me and that she was so proud of me and that she understood what I needed. She told me I could let go.”

Louis lets out a loud sob. He can’t help himself. He’s completely wrung out at the thought of Harry suffering in some sort of limbo between life and death and his heart is breaking at the thought.

“Louis,” Harry says, and his voice is choked and watery, “I’m all right. I promise you.” Louis nods his head as tears stream down his face and Harry kisses his cheeks. “You’re wonderful, Louis. I can’t believe how much you care about me.”

“I d-d-do,” Louis stutters and he pulls the wristbands of his tupa sleeves over his palms and paws at his eyes, rubbing the pads of his hands back and forth to wipe away his tears. “God, I’m so embarrassing,” he whispers and Harry leans in and kisses him deeply on the mouth.

“You’re everything,” Harry says as he pulls away, tears rolling down his own cheeks. He takes Louis’ hands, still half-covered by his sleeves. “My mum did a lot of wonderful things for me during my lifetime, Louis. She baked me biscuits and read me stories when I was little, used to comfort me when I was teased, or when I had my heart broken. She drove me to band practices and let me take ‘personal days’ now and again from school so we could sneak off to a movie.”

Harry’s face relaxes into a warm smile and Louis knows he is flooded with the love that those memories bring. “But the best thing my mum ever did for me, Louis, the most caring, loving gift she ever gave me was to tell me that I could let go, because as soon as she said those words I knew it would be alright. So I listened to her, Louis. I took her advice and I let go, and it freed me. I could feel myself instantly go further under, I felt her lips on my cheeks and I heard the people I loved crying for me and telling me they loved me and I sunk deeper and deeper, and as I went down, I saw my life play out before me in bits and bobs, and it was a wonderful life, Lou, and I was so happy.”

Harry places his thumb on Louis’ chin and gently pulls his head up so that their eyes meet. Tears roll down Harry’s cheeks and he draws in a stuttered breath. “And in the end, letting go brought me to you.”

Louis starts sobbing all over again as tears continue to stream Harry’s face. Louis pulls Harry in close and the two bring their lips together in a series of repeated kisses, both seeking comfort. The kisses eventually dissolve into a hug, Harry slumping against Louis’ chest and Louis’ hands rubbing up and down Harry’s back. Louis wants to hold Harry forever, wants to help him erase the memory of those painful days, and wants to spend eternity making him smile. He feels Harry snuffle against his shoulder and the two pull apart and just stare at one another, their breathing heavy, both overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

Finally, Harry speaks. “Well, this lunch has certainly turned into a rollercoaster of emotions, hasn’t it,” he says and lets out a low chuckle.

For a moment, Louis feels panicked. “I’m so sorry I keep blubbering, I just really –”

“You care about me, Louis,” Harry says, cutting him off. “I care about you too. I’m glad I told you about it, the whole coma thing, I mean. It feels like a relief to have shared it with you. I meant it when I said that I want you to know everything about me.”

“I’m just so sorry you went through all of that,” Louis answers, his voice thick.

“But, I’m better now,” Harry says, pulling Louis in for another hug. “We’re here together and I… I know this is going to sound crazy, but I can’t imagine changing a thing, because it all led to me being here, sitting on this park bench with you.”

“I feel the same,” Louis says, and he squeezes Harry tighter. The two stay wrapped in each other’s arms until eventually they both start to relax. Louis nuzzles his nose in Harry’s hair, breathing in his scent and then takes a few deep breaths before speaking.

“Do you want to hear something funny? When I bought my car, Liam told me it was going to take me on my greatest adventure. I think he was right,” he sighs and braces himself for what he is going to say next. “ _You_ just may be my greatest adventure, Harry.”

“Louis,” Harry whispers and once again they find themselves kissing, soft presses of lips that eventually turn into something deeper. They sit on the park bench in the afternoon sunshine and kiss each other like they haven’t a care in the world, the sadness of their earlier conversation washing away like footprints along the ocean shore, the lapping of their lips pushing out the heartache and filling the empty space left behind with something safe, something that feels an awful lot like love. They don’t notice the loud splashing noise when several more ducks land in the reflecting pool; they don’t see the elderly woman who starts to walk into their private little alcove, only to spot the two of them locked in a passionate embrace and quickly make a hasty retreat; and they certainly don’t give a thought to the time. They are completely lost in one another, in their own little bubble, and Louis cannot remember a time where he ever felt happier.

Soon enough, their kisses deepen and Louis feels lightheaded by the way Harry is dragging his fingers through the back of his hair, his thumbs caressing his neck. Louis moans into Harry’s mouth when he slides his tongue inside and when they pull apart their lips smack.

“You’re amazing, Louis. Everything feels so intense when I’m with you. It’s like I can hardly control myself,” Harry says, panting warm breath over Louis’ cheek.

“I feel the same… You’re so… god, it’s like I don’t even have the words for it… You’re so lush, Harry.”

Louis sighs happily as Harry starts biting at his ear lobe. He slides his hands beneath the back of Harry’s collar and runs his fingers along Harry’s muscular shoulders as they start to kiss again, desire thrumming through Louis’ veins. Harry’s hands fall to Louis’ bum and he squeezes. Louis feels the touch throughout his body and he whines in response. He’s about to go in for another kiss when they are interrupted by the chiming of a bell.

They pull apart disoriented at first and then Harry looks down at his wrist. “Oh, shit. It’s my alarm,” he says, his chest rapidly rising and falling, his breath heavy. He reaches down and silences his watch. His Rolex is exactly like the one Louis wears, except the watch face is a brilliant shade of blue.

“You set an alarm?” Louis asks and grins, his own heavy breathing mimicking Harry’s.

“Well, yeah, Sam warned us we should. And then you told me Marcus told you the same thing, so I thought; just to be safe…” his voice trails off as Louis peppers kisses along his jaw line.

“How much time do we have?”

Harry looks at his wrist, “Twenty-three minutes.”

“Oh shit, Harry!” Louis exclaims, “We should probably go.” He stands up from the bench, but Harry holds onto his arm.

“Not just yet,” Harry says and raises and eyebrow. He looks at his watch and fiddles with the buttons. “I just need three minutes. Three minutes of uninterrupted snogging –”

“Harry!” Louis laughs. “Throwing my words back at me,” he whispers as Harry wraps his hands around Louis’ forearms and tugs, Louis falling into his lap. “How very dare you?”

“Three more minutes, Lou,” Harry whispers as he bites at the tender spot on Louis’ neck, the same spot he devoured in the lift.

Louis whimpers. “Fuck. Okay, three minutes sounds perfectly reasonable.”

Louis wraps his hands around Harry’s cheeks, bringing their mouths together. His lips feel swollen and bitten and tingly from all the kissing they’ve done in the past two hours and it’s quite honestly the best feeling Louis has had in as long as he can remember. He readily leans in for more.

The two have barely gotten started when Harry’s alarm chimes again and they have to leave.

“Shit, this lunch hour seems really short,” Harry mutters as the two smile into a series of quick kisses.

“We had two hours, Hazza,” Louis laughs. “If it was any longer we would have defiled this bench.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” Harry says with a wink.

The two stand and attempt to straighten their tupas and fix their hair, helping each other as they did in the lift a couple hours earlier.

“I know I look a mess,” Louis says, as the two walk hand and hand out of their private little sanctuary and into the main park. “Whenever I cry, my eyes get all puffy. And I can totally feel that they’re puffy now.” He reaches up and pats his left eyelid, letting out a sigh.

“Your eyes are positively beautiful, Louis,” Harry says, and he stops on the cobblestone path to press a kiss to Louis’ cheek. “Not puffy at all.”

“Liar,” Louis grins.

“I’m not, I swear!” Harry exclaims. He rubs his nose. “Whenever I cry my nose gets bright red. I imagine I look like that bloke in the _Operation_ game about now.”

Louis leans over and kisses the tip of his nose. “Your nose is perfect.”

“Liar,” Harry says and the two laugh, Louis squeezing Harry’s hand.

Harry clears his throat. “Um… You may have a bit of a lovebite on the side of your neck, Lou.” Louis’ eyes open wide and he rubs his hand over the spot Harry had spent so much time kissing and sucking. He feels a mild jab of pain associated with the earlier pleasure and the sensation sends a wave of arousal through his body.

“Oh shit, Harry, you marked me?” Louis says, his voice cracking, but he’s really not mad. The thought that Harry’s mouth is imprinted on his skin is kind of a turn-on, actually.

“Well, if I recall correctly, you were the one who moaned ‘harder’. I couldn’t help myself. It’s your fault, really,” Harry teases.

“Marcus is going to give me so much shit,” Louis sighs, shaking his head. He looks at Harry and Harry just grins at him: his perfect white teeth gleaming, his eyes playful, and his dimple set deep in his cheek. Louis can’t help but grin right back at him and he then leans in for another kiss. “Naughty boy,” he laughs.

They manage to find their way out of the park easy enough, and the three-block walk back to the Review Center goes by quickly. Before they know it, they’re stepped back onto a lift and have hit the button for the 46th floor. They haven’t let go of each other’s hands once. As the lift starts to move, Harry nudges Louis’ shoulder and then points his chin up to the camera mounted in the upper corner of the lift’s ceiling. They each raise their free hand and wave, Louis mouthing, “Hello, Ed,” as Harry grins by his side.

They arrive at the 46th floor with four minutes to spare and stand in the hallway between the doors to their respective Review Rooms. Harry hugs Louis so tight that it literally takes his breath away. “I’ll be thinking about you,” he says softly in Louis’ ear. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to concentrate on my Review, actually, with your lips swimming around my brain.”

“Yeah, well, your lips are imprinted on the side of my neck, so I might just have a bit of trouble concentrating myself.” The two grin stupidly at each other. Louis sighs, “We better go. I don’t think this is something we want to be late for.” Harry nods his head and leans in and kisses Louis.

“Wait for me when you get out, yeah?” Harry asks.

“Of course,” Louis answers and then he gives Harry one more quick kiss before they both turn in opposite directions and head towards their own Review Rooms. Louis takes only a few steps before stopping suddenly and turning around. “Hazza!” he calls out as Harry reaches the door to his room. Harry turns around and smiles, raising his eyebrows in question. “I’m just…” he blows out a puff of air. “I’m just really glad we’re here together.”

Harry’s face splits into a grin so wide it’s practically blinding. He nods his head and answers, “Same, Lou. Same.” He blows Louis a kiss before walking into the room and pulling the door closed behind him.

“Well, that was about the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. You two are a couple of love sick puppies.”

Louis shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the approaching familiar voice. He turns on his heels to face the man. “Marcus, where you spying on us, you cheeky bastard?” Louis asks, and Marcus just looks at Louis, a knowing smile on his face.

The two head into the Review Room together and take their seats at the advocate’s table. Ileana is already seated at the delegate’s table and is reading through a sheaf of papers. She looks at Louis and smiles, but then her expression changes and she looks almost puzzled.

Marcus leans over and whispers in Louis’ ear, “My god, Louis. What happened to you? Did you have lunch in Sodom and Gomorrah? You look absolutely debauched.”

“Oh shit!” Louis whispers, his eyes wide. He runs his hands nervously down the front of his tupa and then brushes his fingers through his fringe, combing his hair quickly to the side.

“Relax,” Marcus laughs. “I told you, I know the _look_ , and you have it worse now than you did this morning, if that’s even possible.” He looks Louis up and down, Louis squirming at the attention.

“Let’s see,” Marcus says quietly so Ileana can’t hear, pondering Louis’ appearance. “Despite your recent efforts, your hair is a mess. It’s almost as if someone has been running their fingers through it for the past two hours.” Louis can feel the heat flushing his cheeks and he tries to look away from Marcus, but he really can’t avoid him, so he turns back toward him and rolls his eyes as Marcus continues giving him the once over.

“Your lips are swollen and red, like you’ve just completed a marathon snog session.” Louis presses his hand over his mouth and once again tries to avoid Marcus’ knowing stare.

Marcus’ face suddenly flashes with concern. “You’ve been crying, Louis,” he says, his voice gentle. He squints his eyes and stares at Louis, studying him. “But from that display I just saw in the hallway, I know the two of you haven’t been arguing. In fact, I would guess that you and your boy had a very emotional conversation, no doubt about your deaths, and that conversation only brought the two of you closer together, reiterating my theory that you are hopelessly in love.”

“Marcus, how did you kn – ”

“Because I’ve been there, Louis, and I know that the two of you want to know everything about each other. How you ended up dead and were thus brought together is a pretty natural starting point.”

“Harry’s death was really difficult,” Louis says and he feels a wave of sadness.

“He told you about the coma, then,” Marcus replies, his voice kind. “It was very hard on him. Being trapped in a coma is a very difficult way to pass over. But he’s okay now, Louis, you do know that, right?”

“Yeah, I just feel so terrible for him.”

“I know, but I promise you, he’ll let go of the pain of that experience soon enough, and telling you about it was a big step in that process.”

“Really?” Louis asks, “How could telling me help him?”

“Because you’re soul mates, Louis. I knew it the first time I saw you two together. You’re his other half.” Louis’ jaw drops, his eyes wide as he shakes his head in awe. He doesn’t know how to respond. The only thing he does know is that Marcus is right: he’s hopelessly in love with Harry.

“Besides,” Marcus continues, leaning in closer and whispering, “If he wasn’t okay he wouldn’t have been able to leave that huge lovebite on the side of your neck, now would he?”

“Shit!” Louis says, slapping his hand on his neck, the action sending the familiar throb of pleasure and pain through his body. Ileana looks up from her paperwork and raises an eyebrow at him, studying him for a long moment before lowering her eyes and returning to her work. Marcus rolls his eyes and smiles.

The three justices enter the Review Room and Louis, Marcus and Ileana stand until the justices have taken their seats behind the judges’ bench. The second half of Day One of the Review of the Life of Louis William Tomlinson begins.

 


	7. The One Thing You Feared Most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!! This chapter includes homophobia, homophobic language and also corporal punishment (beating with a belt) of a minor child. This chapter also includes kissing between two characters who are minors.

The afternoon session of Louis’ Review unfolds much like the morning session, with Louis once again taking his seat in the Screening Chair and watching his personal history play out before him onscreen. Marcus is first to present, and calls up a clip dated 12-8-13, meaning that in the clip Louis is twelve years, eight months and thirteen days old.

The clip starts with a wide shot of a grassy pitch, and Louis recognizes it immediately; it’s the practice field at The Hayfield School, where Louis attended as a child until he switched to Hall Cross when he was sixteen and in sixth form. The shot pans out and then zooms in to reveal a young Louis Tomlinson proudly traipsing across the fresh-cut grass as he heads toward a changing room to prepare for afternoon football practice. Half his teammates are already on the pitch, some doing stretches and jogging in place, but most of them are simply standing about and chatting like they haven’t a care in the world.

As Louis watches the screen, he feels the energy and excitement he always felt when walking across a football pitch, and he’s struck with the desire to play. His memory flickers briefly back to when he first arrived in this realm and was taking the tram from the Intake Center to his hotel. He remembers a woman talking about the quality of the pitches in Judgment City and he taps his feet, the urge to strap on a pair of cleats and kick a ball over grassy turf suddenly almost overwhelming.

For as long as he can remember and right up until his death, Louis always kept a football on hand, and whenever he felt agitated or needed a break he would practice his footwork or go outside and practice shooting into whatever impromptu goal he could assemble. Sometimes he would be in his office working on an important campaign and he would stop what he was doing and run through some drills, doing inside rolls and pull turns, or hip swivels and scissor moves to clear his head. He also always kept one or two footballs in the boot of his car and half the time when he and Liam went out to the pub for pints they would end the night in the carpark, kicking a ball around.

Football was a way for Louis to relieve stress; it calmed his nerves and put his mind at rest, and if ever there was a stressful situation, undergoing a Review of one’s life had to be at the top of the list. In fact, Louis thinks that there is only one thing that could better relieve the apprehension he feels at this entire Review process than playing football, and that’s spending time with Harry. He knows he must be a goner when he realizes he would choose being with Harry over playing on the greatest football pitches on Earth, any day of the week. He remembers that Harry will be attending a dinner party at his advocate’s this evening and so he decides right then and there that as soon as he gets back to his hotel he’s going to ask Donald to arrange for him to play tonight. It’s won’t be the same fun as the afternoon he spent locking lips with Harry in the park, but it will be a great distraction and he could use the stress relief.

His plans suddenly solidified, he turns his attention fully back to the image of his younger-self onscreen, watching as young Louis happily heads to afternoon practice.

Over his shoulder, Louis carries a rucksack, his strides wide and quick as he makes his way across the bright green lawn to the simple brick structure on the far end of the field. On either side of the pitch, several of Louis’ classmates mill about, and adult Louis draws in a breath as he watches a pretty girl with long brown hair wave and smile at his pre-adolescent self.

Louis enters the changing room and drops his rucksack on a bench that stands between two rows of lockers. He opens a locker bearing a strip of bright yellow sports tape marked ‘28’, and retrieves a water bottle stored inside. He’s just leaned over the bench and has opened his rucksack to pull out his practice jersey when his best friend at the time, Stan Lucas, rushes into the locker room, pushing Louis’ gear aside and plunking down on the bench in front of him.

“What’s wrong with you, Stan-the-man?” Louis asks on a laugh.

“I forgot my kit, Lou,” Stan answers, his voice shaky and panicked. He looks at Louis and his eyes are wide, his face flushed.

“What? Again?” Louis exclaims. “You know you can’t practice unless you’re properly dressed! Coach won’t allow it!”

Louis’ voice squeaks, the onset of adolescence present in his changing pitch as he adds, “We have a match tomorrow! You can’t play if you missed practice, Stan. You’re our best player and you’re starting!”

“I know! I’m so screwed, Lou!”

“Shit, Stan! Coach warned you last time that if you showed up unprepared again he was going to bench you for the rest of the season. How could you do this?”

Stan cradles his face in his palms and shakes his head back and forth. “I don’t know, Lou,” he answers, his voice cracking. “Everything is such shit right now and my father is absolutely going to kill me if I miss the match.”

“Shit,” adult Louis whispers as he watches the scene before him. This particular incident was but one of hundreds of shared memories with Stan, but as Louis stares at the image of his younger-self onscreen the day comes flooding back to him and he remembers the moment with clarity, the emotions of the day hitting him full force. He feels a wave of empathy for Stan at how stressed he was at the threat of missing practice and in turn, a match. He then recalls how angry Stan’s father could get when Stan screwed up and forgot things like his footie gear, which honestly, was all the time.

Stan’s parents were on the brink of divorce and it affected Stan deeply. There were plenty of occasions where Stan took solace at the Tomlinson household: eating supper with Louis’ ever expanding family, watching telly, or even spending the night on school nights, all in order to avoid his own home and the constant tension that filled its halls. Given how often arguments between his own parents arose, Louis knew Stan’s situation must be pretty dire if the Tomlinson house was a safe haven.

“Can’t you ask your mum to bring it to you?” young Louis offers, but Stan just shakes his head.

“She’s at work. My dad’s going to kill me, Louis! He warned me not to forget my gear last night and you know how angry he’s been lately.”

The door to the changing room swings open and as he watches the screen, Louis feels apprehension tensing his shoulders and back muscles at what happens next.

Coach Myers, Louis’ first, _real_ footie coach and a man Louis respected immeasurably, walks into the changing room. “Hurry up, boys!” he says, tucking a clipboard under his arm and then slapping his hands together. “Practice starts in seven minutes and you two need to get out on the pitch.”

Stan looks up at the coach and his eyes are watery, his face contorted in worry. He opens his mouth to speak, but Louis cuts him off.

“I forgot my kit!” Louis exclaims, his voice shaking. He quickly moves around the bench, discreetly pushing his rucksack against Stan’s back as he stands beside him. “I… um. I was running late this morning and I left my gear at home.”

For a minute, the coach says nothing; he just looks back and forth between Stan and Louis and squints his eyes as if he doesn’t believe it.

“Doesn’t sound like you, Tomlinson,” the coach says, his face suspicious. “In the two years you’ve played for me, you’ve never forgotten your gear once. In fact, you’ve never even been late for practice; you’re the most responsible person on this team.”

“I… I’m really sorry, Coach,” Louis says, and adult Louis feels the same sense of nervous energy that young Louis felt in that moment, torn between protecting his friend and protecting his own reputation.

The coach looks at Stan and raises his eyebrows, his voice stern. “Lucas, you on the other hand have missed practice twice this season for forgetting your kit and you know what I warned you would happen if you forgot it again. Not to mention you’re late almost as often as you’re on time.” Stan looks down at the concrete floor, avoiding the coach’s eyes. For a minute, the coach doesn’t say anything, just stares at Stan as if willing him to confess. When it doesn’t happen, he turns back to Louis, his expression serious, “Is there anything you want to add to this story, Tomlinson?”

The coach is giving Louis an out, and adult Louis feels the same wave of panic that his younger self felt at that moment that he didn’t take it. The young Louis onscreen swallows and shakes his head, his cheeks flushed bright red. “It won’t happen again, Coach. I promise.”

Coach Myers stares at Louis, obvious disappointment written on his face. From his position in the Screening Chair, adult Louis feels his own cheeks flush hot with humiliation, as if he is literally in the moment. The coach lets out an exasperated sigh and then looks down at his clipboard, pulling a pencil from behind his ear and slowly scratching across something printed on the top sheet of paper attached to the board.

“You know the rules: no kit, no practice, Tomlinson,” he says, frustration evident in his voice. “I was going to start you tomorrow. You’re one of our best players and the team needs you. But this…” he shakes his head. “Unacceptable, Tomlinson. Unacceptable.”

The young Louis onscreen ducks his head in shame while adult Louis stares at the image, lost in the memory of that moment, his body feeling a push and pull of justification and regret.

He remembers how much he looked up to Coach Myers, how the coach had given Louis a shot when his previous coaches had not. Louis was a lot smaller than many of the other players on his team, but he was fast and agile, and Coach Myers recognized that quality in him. After one particularly intense practice, the coach told Louis that his footwork was some of the best he’d seen in all of his years of coaching. Hearing those words from the coach’s mouth was one of Louis’ proudest moments in his many years of playing footie and they only made him want to be better, to work harder. The last thing Louis wanted to do was disappoint his coach, and showing up unprepared for practice was the surest way to do just that.

Watching the moment now, Louis can see the disappointment in the coach’s eyes, but he also knows that that disappointment didn’t come from the coach believing that Louis was unprepared: that disappointment came from the fact that Louis had lied to him. Louis can read it plain as day on the coach’s face; Coach Myers absolutely knew that it was Stan and not Louis who carelessly left his gear at home, and he was visibly upset that Louis lied to him about it.

For a moment, Louis wishes he could go back and apologize to the coach and make it right. Of course, had he done that, Stan would have been the one in the hot seat: missing practice and an important match, and facing considerable consequences from his father as a result. Louis bites his bottom lip as he plays through the whole scenario in his head; he is completely unsure as to whether he would change a thing, given the chance.

“Life could be so complicated,” he whispers, not even realizing he is speaking aloud.

“Lucas, hurry up and get changed,” the coach says, interrupting adult Louis’ train of thought. He looks at his watch and adds, “Tomlinson, you can either stay in here and organize the equipment cupboard, or you can go home: your choice. But you’re not practicing, and you’re not playing tomorrow.”

“I’ll clean out storage, Coach,” Louis answers, his face turning beet red.  
Coach Myers turns around and leaves the changing room without so much as acknowledging Louis’ answer. Stan jumps up from the bench and throws his arms around Louis, his face flooded with relief.

“Holy crap, Louis! You saved me! Why’d you do that, Lou? I can’t believe you did that!”

“It’s okay, mate,” young Louis answers. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

The screen fades to black.

Louis’ chair rotates to face the judges’ bench and the lights go up in the Review Room. Marcus places his hands before him on the advocate’s table and pauses for dramatic effect before pushing himself up and walking over to Louis.

“Louis, what are you feeling right now?” Marcus asks, his expression serious.

Louis takes a deep breath. The film clip he just viewed was far less emotionally taxing than the clips of his fighting parents that were screened earlier in the day. In fact, the incident Marcus chose to show was rather inconsequential in comparison.

But still, being plunked right back into a moment that happened nearly two decades earlier is nonetheless unsettling and while Louis doesn’t feel the longing and heartache that the earlier clips induced within him, he still feels indescribably connected to the moment and his emotions are all over the place. He takes another deep breath to calm his nerves before speaking.

“I feel so many things right now,” Louis answers truthfully. He clears his throat and places his hands on his chair’s armrests, sliding his hands forward and then gripping the ends of the rests tight.

“I’m angry,” he continues. “At this very moment I’m mad at my friend for a stupid mistake he made a lifetime ago and I’m also trying to figure out why I’m so mad. But most of all, I just feel kind of… I don’t know how to describe it really, I just feel… _bad_.”

“Bad?” Marcus asks.

“Yeah, bloody awful, actually.”

Louis shakes his head and purses his lips, “I let down my coach. He meant a lot to me. He was a good man and he really cared about me; he wanted me to succeed in football when others didn’t even think I stood a chance. And I disappointed him,” Louis says, once again feeling a wave of regret.

Marcus nods his head and paces back and forth a few times in front of Louis before once again turning to face him.

“Louis,” he asks, his voice casual, “would it be fair to say that football was your favorite sport on Earth.”

“It would be fair to say that football _was_ and _is_ my favorite sport whether I’m on Earth or…” Louis’ voice drops and he holds out his hands, “whatever this place is.”

Louis looks up at the judges’ bench and sees the slightest flicker of a smile pass over the Chief Justice’s lips. Marcus continues speaking.

“So, given your love of football and your dedication to the sport, it would be also be fair to say that skipping a match was not something you did on a regular basis?”

“In all my years playing, I missed one match,” Louis answers, “and that was the match I had to sit out for forgetting my kit and missing practice.”

“But you didn’t forget your kit, as we clearly saw in the clip, did you Louis?”

“No, but Stan forgot his and I couldn’t let him get in trouble.”

“Were you afraid when you told the coach you left your kit at home?”

“I didn’t even think about being afraid. I just wanted to help Stan out,” Louis answers. “Stan’s family was going through a rough patch and Stan’s father could be really hard on him. I just felt like I needed to help him.”

Louis pauses for a minute, unsure of whether he should say the thought that is resting heavily on his mind. Marcus looks at him, a concerned expression etched on his face. Louis knows that he is defending his life, but he also wants to set things right. He draws in a breath and unburdens himself, saying exactly what he is thinking.

“I _do_ regret lying to my coach, though. I mean, even though I helped Stan, it wasn’t right to lie to Coach Myers, especially not after how good he’d always been to me.”

Louis looks at Marcus and hopes he hasn’t stepped on Marcus’ planned defense with his confession.

But Marcus doesn’t look thrown off his game. In fact, his expression softens and his voice is kind as he replies, “That was a very selfless thing you did, Louis.” He turns to face the justices and raises his voice to add, “Louis took the blame for something he didn’t do in order to protect his friend. He did so even though he knew it might affect the way that someone he looked up to and cared about thought about him, and he did so knowing full well that he would feel the shame that disappointing that person would bring.”

Louis’ feels embarrassed at the praise, because he doesn’t quite believe that it’s deserved considering he lied to his coach. If he regrets one thing above all else about his life on Earth, it’s the lies he told that are an integral part of his personal narrative. It doesn’t matter if they were lies of omission, or based on a denial so great he was unable to even know that he was lying, or really _what_ his intentions were at the time; his lies hurt people, most of all himself.

Marcus presses on, giving a stirring speech about how brave Louis was to stand up for his friend and how doing so was the antithesis of a person who lived a life shrouded in fear. When he’s finished speaking and returns to the advocate’s table, Ileana stands and approaches Louis.

“It’s a valiant thing you did, Louis, taking the fall for your friend,” she says. Louis looks at her, surprised by her kind words. She smiles at him and the smile seems genuine. Louis doesn’t quite understand what it is about her that he likes, but he shakes it off and tries to remember that her only job in this Review is to send him back to Earth, and if she succeeds, she’ll also be sending him away from Harry.

“I just was doing what I thought was right.”

“I know you were, Louis,” she replies. “So, you did this selfless thing for your friend and that’s wonderful, but when you were confronted by your stepfather about missing practice and the match, you wasted no time in telling him what really happened.”

“Wh-what?” Louis stutters, utterly confused.

Ileana turns to face the judges’ bench. “I’d like to pull up 12.8.13, your honors, same day, half seven in the evening.” Louis closes his eyes as his chair turns to face the screen; the lights haven’t even gone dim in the courtroom before he remembers what had occurred that evening when his stepfather found out Louis had missed practice.

The Review Room falls dark and the film starts, the scene taking place in the family dining room of the Tomlinson home, and Louis’ entire immediate family, save for the two sets of twins who came along years later, the second set when his mother remarried, are all seated at the dinner table.

The table is alive with chatter, everyone talking over each other and laughing as they pass around plates of food and banter about their days. Lottie is not even five years old and Fizzy is still a toddler, yet the girls happily contribute to the conversation, Lottie excitedly telling everyone about the gold star she earned on her drawing that day in pre-school.

“Look at us,” Louis whispers, and even though he knows that something ugly is going to happen, even though he’s already starting to feel pangs of remorse and regret over what he did, he can’t help but feel overwhelmed with love and a tinge of sadness as he watches his younger-self, his sisters, and his parents participating in this simple activity that he experienced nearly every day until he left home for uni: family dinner.

Louis is loading a heaping spoonful of mash on his plate, laughing and pulling a face at Lottie, when his stepfather, Mark, speaks.

“Looking forward to your match tomorrow, Louis,” Mark says as he cuts into the roast beef on his plate. “I rearranged my work schedule so I can make it. Coach told me last week that you’re going to be starting from here on out.” Mark stabs a piece of beef onto his fork and then points it at Louis, smiling broadly. “All those hours practicing in the back yard are paying off. I’m really proud of you, son.”

The young Louis onscreen averts his eyes and lowers his head, while adult Louis feels his gut twisting and warmth flushing his cheeks, just like he did during the conversation he is watching.

“I… Um… I actually won’t be playing t-tomorrow,” young Louis stutters and he raises his head slowly to meet his stepfather’s eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Mark says, and then laughs, thinking Louis is pulling one over on him.

Louis bites his lip and actually winces, his face contorting as he forces himself to shakily rush out, “I missed practice today. I… I forgot my kit. Coach won’t let us play if we don’t have our practice gear and if we miss a practice the day before a match, we aren’t allowed to play.”

The mood at the table instantly changes. It’s almost like the air has been sucked out of the room. Adult Louis traces the collar of his tupa with his index finger, pulling it away from his body as if it’s constricting his neck, his body physically reacting with shortness of breath at the anticipation of what is going to happen next. The idle chitchat between Louis’ sisters and his mum immediately stops and the table falls silent. Lottie and Fizzy stare at Louis, their eyes wide, and even as young as they are in that moment Louis’ sisters know when something is going to set Mark off, and they also know to be quiet if such a situation occurs. Louis’ mum looks back and forth between her husband and Louis, her expression stern as if she’s preparing herself for the storm that is surely coming.

For a minute, Mark says nothing, just stares at Louis, his expression hardening, his brows pinched in anger, and his face turning red. “You did what?” he asks, and his voice is barely above a whisper, which was the surest sign of impending fury.

Louis clears his throat. “I forgot my – ”

“Irresponsible!” Mark practically shouts and slams his fist down on the table causing all the dishes to clatter loudly, milk slopping out of Lottie’s glass, and the girls jumping in their seats in surprise. Mark shakes his head, his voice growing louder with each word as he continues. “You finally make it to starting line up and you’re too bloody irresponsible to even bring your kit to practice. I’m so disgusted with you,” he spits out.

Adult Louis closes his eyes for a moment and draws in a deep breath, blowing the air from his lungs out slowly. How could he have forgotten how angry Mark could get at the slightest provocation? He had somehow managed to downplay how often his parents fought when he was a child and that façade came crashing down with his morning Review session. Now, here he is, once again facing another reality that he had somehow managed to erase from his memory: the reality that his stepfather had a very short fuse.

For the most part, Mark’s anger was limited to loud, in-your-face shouting that crowded Louis’ personal space and made him feel small and scared. By the time Louis was twelve and a half, when the incident onscreen occurred, Mark hadn’t punished Louis with physical reprisal in over a year. In fact, the last time Louis received any type of corporal punishment (with a belt no less) was in the summer following his eleventh birthday. After that incident, Louis’ mum threatened Mark with divorce lest he undergo counseling for his anger issues and Mark obliged, desperate to hold onto his family. He never spanked or otherwise hit Louis or any of his sisters after that, but he still had a fierce temper and to Louis’ his outbursts were always terrifying.

“Mark, calm down,” Louis mum interjects, her voice steady and strong.

“You stay out of it, Jay!” Mark shouts and adult Louis cringes as he watches his twelve-year-old self sink down in his chair, his face crimson. “I’ve spent a small fortune on football camps and footie balls and costly trainers, and for what? So he can miss games because he’s too bloody incompetent to remember his kit?”

“Don’t you talk about _my_ son like that!” Louis' mum shouts, and there it is: the comment that always made Louis feel inadequate: always made him feel less-than. How could something so simple as ‘my son’ affect Louis so profoundly and make him feel less-than: less-than a member of his own family, less-than a real brother to his sisters, and certainly less-than a son to Mark? The words sting and the way that adult Louis shrinks in his Screening Chair exactly mirror the recoiling frame of his younger-self.

It’s all so complicated and confusing, because Louis knows his mum loved him with her whole heart. He knows that when she said ‘my son’ to Mark she was only trying to protect Louis. The two shared an intense bond; they were their own little team until she met and married Mark, and Louis was always extremely close to her. A wave of regret washes over Louis as he wishes he had summoned the courage when he was young to ask his mum not to bring up the fact that Mark was not  his birth father. In retrospect, he knows that if he had done that, if he had told her how it made him feel, she no doubt would have apologized profusely and it never would have happened again. But the subject always made Louis feel profoundly uncomfortable and so he never brought it to her attention.

Unlike the clip played earlier in the day though, this time Mark doesn’t look stricken when he hears the comment; he’d heard it so many times by that point that he must have grown immune. But Louis hadn’t, it still cut him like a knife every time those words were spoken. He sighs as he watches his parents begin to shout back and forth, Mark screaming that Louis is _his_ son too and that he can be angry with him if he wants because Louis deserves it and Jay shouting back that it is only one match and Mark is blowing the whole situation out of proportion.

Just then, Mark turns his attention from Jay and back to Louis. He narrows his eyes and drops his voice, literally snarling at Louis through his teeth. “Were you hanging ‘round that fairy, Brian again, Louis? I swear to god, if he’s the reason you didn’t bother to take your gear to school there will be hell to pay.”

Mark’s words punch adult Louis in the gut so hard he literally feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs. Watching the expression of his younger-self onscreen, he remembers that it was the exact way he felt at that very moment Mark first said them to him all those years ago.

“What?” Louis croaks, his voice broken. “N-no! We’re not even friends anymore,” he answers, shaking his head in shock.

“Mark, the girls,” Jay interjects, tilting her head toward Lottie and Fizzy who sit looking utterly confused. Mark looks back and forth between them and when he catches Lottie’s eyes, she drops her head and looks down at her lap, trying to make herself invisible until the storm passes.

“If I find out that you’ve so much spoken to h –”

“It was Stan!” Louis suddenly shouts, standing up from the table, his chair jostling and nearly falling over behind him as a result of his quick movements. “I didn’t forget my kit! Stan forgot his and I let him use mine so he wouldn’t miss practice!” Louis’ voice is high-pitched and frantic and his chest heaves as the adrenaline pumps through his body. Adult Louis slaps his hand over his face, feeling instant regret over telling on his friend some eighteen years ago.

The table once again goes dead silent as Louis’ parents both look at him with shocked expressions on their faces.

“Why in bloody hell would you do that?” Mark asks and he narrows his eyes at Louis suspiciously.

“He’s already missed two practices for forgetting his gear. Coach warned him if he forgot it again, he was going to be off the team. I couldn’t let that happen to him,” Louis answers, his voice bordering on hysterical.

“Oh, Louis, I know you had his best interests at heart but you can’t – ” Louis’ mum says gently, before she is cut off by Mark.

“Just what exactly is going on between you two, then? Hmmm?” he says, his voice full of contempt. Adult Louis feels overwhelmed by both anger and shame as he watches the expression on his younger-self’s face fall.

“Nothing! He’s my best mate, is all!” Louis’ answers, his voice shrill and trembling. His eyes go wide as he quietly adds, “I was just trying to help him, I swear.”

“I’m calling the coach,” Mark says and he gets up from the table.

“Dad, no!” Louis begs, “Please. Please, don’t call him! He’ll bench Stan and it will be all my fault!”

“You’re soft, Louis,” he replies, shaking his head in disgust. As Mark gets up and leaves the table Louis hears him whisper under his breath, “My son, the bloody poofter.” The screen fades to black.

Louis feels moisture well up in the corner of his eyes, but he manages to rein his tears in. He takes deep breaths like Justice Wen had advised during the morning session and he tries to calm the whirling tide of emotions that crash inside his belly and threaten to burst free at any second. His chair rotates to face the justices and the lights come up in the Review Room as he releases a long breath.

Louis is surprised when Ileana approaches him with a glass of water in hand and offers it to him, her expression neutral. He doesn’t want to take it from her, but his throat feels dry and cracked: a symptom of the anxiety, sadness and regret that thrums through his veins. He accepts her offering, nodding his head in thanks as he takes a long sip and then hands it back to her.

Ileana places the glass on the table and turns back to Louis, cutting right to the chase.

“Louis, you stood up for your friend, Stan, and that was a noble thing to do. But the moment you were confronted by your stepfather, the moment you were forced to deal with something that you were afraid to admit, you took the easy way out and you turned on him.”

Louis’ mouth drops open in shock and he feels a rush of anger at Ileana’s words. “I… I didn’t turn on him!” Louis replies and he grips the arm rests of his chair, his knuckles turning white as he tries to remain calm and not lash out over her implication. He shakes his head, his voice steady as he adds, “I actually resent you saying that. I would never _ever_ turn on my friends.”

Ileana nods her head. “I apologize for my wording, Louis, but the fact of the matter is that as soon as your stepfather brought up an issue that you were truly afraid of you told on Stan in order to change the subject. Don’t you think that doing so negated the action of you taking the fall to protect him in the first place?”

“I… Uh…” Louis fish-mouths for a moment, his eyes wide as he tries to come to grips with what she is saying. Yes, he told on Stan, but that doesn’t mean that he turned on him, does it? He only told Mark what really happened so he wouldn’t keep talking about… He doesn’t even allow himself to finish the thought because he realizes that Ileana is right. “I never meant for him to get in trouble,” he ekes out, his voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t my intention to turn on him.”

“But you did so because you were afraid,” Ileana replies and it is not a question.

But Louis wasn’t afraid, he’s sure of it. The moment is so fresh in his brain and he knows without a doubt what he was feeling when he told his stepfather that it was Stan and not him who forgot their footie kit and it wasn’t fear. More than anything else, he was _embarrassed_ , embarrassed because Mark indirectly brought up the incident that prefaced the last whipping he would ever give Louis, but also embarrassed because the whole situation was so sad and terrible it caused Louis immeasurable shame that weighed on Louis' shoulders throughout his life.

Louis steadies his nerves and raises his head, looking Ileana directly in the eyes as he states emphatically, “I was not afraid. I was anxious and I was worried, but most of all, I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” Ileana asks, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly.

“Yes, embarrassed,” Louis repeats.

“Why were you embarrassed, Louis?” she asks, her voice calm.

Louis looks down and takes a deep breath, relaxing his grip on the armrests before returning his eyes to Ileana’s. “I was embarrassed by what Mark said. About me and my friend Brian, I mean.”

Ileana studies Louis for a moment. “When your stepfather asked if you had been spending time with your friend Brian, what was he referring to, Louis?”

Louis feels hot all over and slightly nauseous. He’d pushed the incident Ileana is asking about so far out of his mind that it is almost like it never happened, that it wasn’t a real occurrence in his life. And now, here it is, brought up again nearly two decades later for a courtroom full of dead people to examine and mull over. Louis can’t remember the last time he felt so humiliated and ashamed. Ileana must be able to read it on Louis’ face, because she goes and gets him another drink of water and after he has gratefully gulped down the entire glass she returns to her questioning, but her voice is gentle and her expression kind.

“Louis,” she says, looking him straight in the eye, “I know these Reviews can be difficult, but I need you to tell me what happened between you, Brian, and your stepfather.”

Just then, Marcus stands from the table and walks over to the judges’ bench. “Your honors, is this kind of questioning really necessary? The delegate is questioning Louis about an incident that has nothing to do with the clip she has just shown and that goes against Rule 686C of the _Review Constitution_. Furthermore, I wasn’t informed ahead of time that she would be introducing this incident in her questioning.”

Ileana goes and stands beside Marcus, and counters, “Your honors, the incident was directly referenced in the clip that we just viewed. In accordance to Section D48, Paragraph 67 of the _Review Constitution_ , ‘all topics discussed or entertained between relevant parties during the course of a Review clip are admissible for further exploration during Intake questioning’.”

Louis doesn’t know what any of what Marcus and Ileana are saying means, but he’s hoping the subject will be dropped. The Chief Justice places her hand over the microphone that sits in front of her on the bench and confers with her co-justices. After a minute or two of the three of them talking back and forth, she leans in and says, “We’ll allow the question, Ms. Bachchan.”

Louis looks to Marcus, who is clearly frustrated with the justices’ decision, but he nods his head at Louis and mouths that it will be okay. Louis is not so sure this will be the case.

“Louis,” Ileana presses. “Please tell the Review Room about the incident your stepfather brought up on the evening 12.8.13.”

Louis looks back and forth between Marcus and Ileana and he knows that he looks helpless, like a deer caught in headlights, unable to move, even to save himself.

Ileana walks toward Louis and stoops down in front of his chair so that she is meeting him at eye level. Her eyes are kind as she says, “Take all of the time you need, Louis; there is no rush.”

For a minute, Louis doesn’t say anything, he just allows himself to travel back to that day when it felt like his world had been ripped apart at the seams for so many different reasons. He closes his eyes and for the first time in years he permits himself to really consider what happened, because that moment was so huge that it surely affected the course of his life.

“Um… I had a friend named Brian,” he starts, his voice shaky at first. He takes a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and then continues, his voice calmer, more controlled.

“He was new to my school and we had a few classes together and we just… clicked.”

Louis bites his bottom lip as a memory of the first time he saw Brian flashes in his mind. He was sitting in his study period, goofing around with Stan when he should have been reviewing for his history exam, when in walked the school’s guidance counselor and a boy with shaggy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was wearing the school uniform, his school tie loose around his neck and his shirt tail hanging freely below the back of his blazer. He looked casual and confident and as the counselor introduced him as a new student named Brian Hilliard, Louis’ eyes caught Brian’s and he felt something he had never felt before: his first, real physical attraction to another person.

Brian and Louis became instant friends; they had so much in common and they just got on so well. They initially bonded over football, but there were other things that drew them together. They both shared the same sense of humor and quick-wit, and they would find themselves laughing hysterically over the stupidest things until Louis thought his ribs would split open. They both liked comics and they spent hours after school debating the merits of Spiderman verses Captain America; Louis was all for Spiderman, while Brian insisted that Captain America was the superior superhero, which Louis argued was absolutely ridiculous. They sent each other outlandish text messages riddled with profanity and stayed up late playing video games together online, talking to each other through gaming headsets and banding together to annihilate other online opponents.

One of the best things about Brian was that he got on well with Stan and that he fit seamlessly into their group of friends, without the petty jealousies that often resulted when someone new enters a tight knit circle. Brian’s friendship was easy and it was fun and everyone who met him liked him instantly.

But still, Brian caused a budding anxiety in Louis because Louis felt differently about him than he did any of his other friends, and certainly differently than he felt about the pretty brunette he considered his girlfriend. Well, Eleanor was as much of a girlfriend as one could claim at eleven and a half years of age, even though she was eventually to become a more permanent fixture in his life. The fact of the matter was that Louis had a crush on Brian and he wanted nothing more than for that crush to go away.

But it didn’t.

“It was summer vacation and Brian and I were both planning on trying out for the football team; a bunch of my mates were trying out, actually, and I had a big backyard, so everyone came over to my house to practice,” Louis says and then pauses, unable to finish his thought.

Ileana and Marcus both nod for him to continue, but Louis is nervous and thinking about that day is bringing back so many long-buried memories that his stomach is churning and he can feel bile rising in the back of his throat, can taste the tacos and fish and chips he had for lunch and the sour residue of limeade.

“Can I have another drink of water?” he asks, and Marcus jumps up from the table and brings a glass to him. Louis doesn’t remember a time outside of sports or exercise that he’s been so incredibly thirsty. He drinks half the glass down in one swig and then hands it back to Marcus, offering him a small smile in thanks.

“So your friends were at your house to practice football?” Ileana prompts.

“Um, yeah,” Louis answers and he decides right then that he needs to pull himself together and just get this story out, because the anticipation of telling it is absolutely killing him. As if he hasn’t died once already.

“So we ran some drills and practiced for a couple of hours. It was actually really impressive how dedicated we were,” Louis says and he feels a wave of pride at just how hard he always worked when it came to bettering himself at his favorite sport.

“After we practiced, we ordered pizza and some of the guys stuck around to hang out. But before long, everyone had left and it was just me and Brian alone in the house.”

“Your parents weren’t home?” Ileana asks and Louis shakes his head in response.

“No, they were both working and weren’t due for a few hours. Brian and I were watching some telly and I put on this ridiculous soap opera, just to piss him off, but he tried to grab the remote from me because he wanted to watch reruns of _Countdown_.”

Louis takes another deep breath and steadies himself. “So, um, we were goofing around a bit; I was playing keep-away with the remote and Brian was kind of tackling me, trying to get it and… um… then it happened.”

“What happened, Louis?” Ileana asks.

Louis closes his eyes, because he does not want to answer Ileana’s question. The moment was so personal and so intense and it meant so much to Louis, and here he is, nineteen years later and he has to share that moment with virtual strangers and he doesn’t want to. It isn’t fair, but he knows he doesn’t have a choice.

“He kissed me.”

It was Louis’ first _real_ kiss and he’ll never forget the way it made him feel. Sure, he had pecked Eleanor on the lips a few times, and he had definitely kissed her on the cheek more times than he could count at that point, but nothing, absolutely nothing he experienced before that day was like the kiss he shared with Brian.

Brian and Louis had been laughing hysterically as Louis fell back against the couch’s armrest, Louis holding the remote out of Brian’s reach while Brian lunged helplessly for it. But then Brian crashed down hard on top of Louis, knocking the wind out of Louis’ lungs as he snaked his arm out for the remote.

“Bloody tosser!” Louis had laughed and he started to push Brian off of him when Brian suddenly froze. Their eyes locked and for a few seconds, neither one of them moved. And then Brian leaned in and pressed his lips against Louis’, catching Louis off guard.

At first, Louis couldn’t move; he was completely panicked because a _boy_ was kissing him. But the reality was that he’d imagined kissing Brian on more than one occasion. He would find himself daydreaming about Brian during school, and even when they were together playing video games or simply hanging out, Louis would often feel a rush of embarrassment because he wanted to kiss Brian so badly that he was sure it was obvious on his face, he was sure that Brian knew it. He’d try to think about kissing Eleanor, but more often than not, as he lie awake in bed at night, Eleanor would fade into the background and the image of her lips would be replaced by one of Brian’s.

And the most confusing thing was that Louis didn’t want to kiss Brian at all; rather, he didn’t want _to want_ to kiss him. But after he got over the initial shock that _this is happening_ and Brian’s lips were pressed against his, he gave in and he kissed Brian back.

It was awkward and it was sloppy, just two wet lips smacking together, no rhythm, no method. Neither of them had ever properly kissed another person before. But still, the kiss sent sparks through Louis’ body and made him feel things he had never even known existed, like how right it felt to kiss a boy.

It was Louis Tomlinson’s first real kiss and it was also the last time he would kiss another member of his own sex until he was planning his wedding to Eleanor thirteen years later.

“What happened next, Louis?” Ileana prods.

Louis’ voice is barely above a whisper as he answers Ileana’s question. “Brian kissed me and um…” Louis can feel his cheeks flush red as his heart quickens its pace, “I kissed him back. It was harmless really, it was just a kiss, nothing more.”

And it was _j_ _ust a kiss_ ; there was no sexual intent behind it, it was simply a tender moment between two boys on the cusp of adolescence who were each discovering their own sexuality. The kiss Louis shared with Brian was a sweet first kiss that could have been a beautiful memory he carried with him his whole life, instead of the shameful secret it was to become. “It was just a kiss,” Louis repeats, his voice quiet and sad, “but I guess we were both caught up in it, because neither one of us heard the front door open.”

Louis shakes his head slowly as he remembers exactly how he felt in that moment. His eyes momentarily widen as he relives the shock and utter humiliation he felt when Mark’s shouting interrupted his first kiss and then he closes his eyes, lost in thought.

“What in bloody hell is going on here?” Mark screamed and Brian scrambled off of Louis and jumped up from the couch while Louis quickly squirmed upright and stood beside him, his voice caught in his throat, his body recoiling in fear. “A couple of faggots,” Mark shouted, his face red with fury. “I’ve got a couple of faggots under my roof?”

Louis sits in the Screening Chair and he thinks about that moment and how disgusted Mark looked when he caught Brian and Louis together doing nothing more than sharing a sloppy, harmless kiss. Louis had been utterly terrified, his body wracked with panic, but more than anything he felt so very ashamed because the way that Mark was reacting to him told Louis all that he needed to know: it told him that kissing another boy was wrong.

Louis doesn’t know how long he’s been lost in his thoughts, but he can feel the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes when Ileana gently nudges, “Who came in the front door, Louis?”

Louis looks up at her, startled. He was so caught up in the memory that he almost forgot where he was. “My stepfather,” he answers and his voice cracks just a little bit on the end.

“What did your stepfather do when he discovered you kissing another boy?”

“He…he grabbed Brian by the arm and he threw him out of the house, told him if he ever came back again he was going to call his parents so that they knew their son was a ‘fucking faggot’.”

Ileana’s expression softens and she seems sincere when she says, “I’m very sorry that happened, Louis.” He can feel the first tear trickle down the side of his cheek and he wipes it away, but he knows there are more to follow. “Please go on.”

Louis looks over at Marcus and Marcus raises his fist to show Louis he is on his side before nodding for Louis to proceed.

“I’d never seen Mark so angry,” Louis says and his heart is outright pounding in his chest, he feels hot and overwhelmed and just… _sad_. “He started screaming at me. He told me no son of his was going to be a ‘fairy’ and I better get my shit together or I could get out of his house.”

Louis barks out a rueful laugh as another tear falls down his cheek. “My mum bought that house with her own money before she even met Mark. It was _her_ house, not _his_.”

He looks down at his lap as another teardrop falls and he rubs at both of his eyes. He feels like his skin is crawling and he just wants to jump out of this chair and run out of the building and keep running until the memory of that awful day goes far away, back into hiding, back to where it can no longer hurt him. But instead, he continues speaking.

“So after Mark kicked Brian out, he dragged me to his and my mum’s bedroom and he pulled out a belt from his drawer. I was wearing shorts, but, they were thin and they didn’t offer much protection and so when he held my arms and began to whip my arse with the belt it really hurt, was agonizing, actually.”

Louis draws in a shuddered breath as he remember the biting sting of each strike of the belt against his arse, the way he tried to wiggle out of Mark’s firm grip and the way Mark just held his wrists tighter, rendering them sore and bruised when the whole thing was over.

His tears begin to fall faster down his cheeks, so fast that he can barely wipe them away before more follow. He swallows thickly, “He left welts all over my backside and there were stripes where the skin was broken and bled. It was the most humiliating experience of my life and I can’t believe I’m even talking about it.”

“I can’t either,” Marcus interjects. “Your honors, is there even a point to this line of questioning, other than to emotionally berate my client?”

Ileana shoots Marcus a shocked look and Louis thinks she almost appears hurt. “There is a point to all of this,” she responds, “and we’ll get back to it when Louis is finished speaking.”

“Well that’s it, really,” Louis answers, looking back and forth between Marcus and Ileana. “My mum got off work early and walked in while Mark was lashing me and she pulled him off me and threw him out of the house. He went into therapy soon after that and um… he never punished me or my sisters like that again.”

The Review Room is silent for a minute as both the advocate and the delegate give Louis time to pull himself together. He continues his deep breathing exercise and is startled when Ileana again speaks.

“Mark’s reaction to you kissing another boy affected you profoundly, didn’t it, Louis?” she asks.

Louis swallows thickly and nods his head. “It… it made me want to be a different person,” he answers truthfully and then instantly regrets what he’s just said.

Ileana looks at Marcus and raises her eyebrows, her voice calm and sure as she states, “And that was the point I was trying to make. That one incident changed the course of Louis’ life. As much as it pains me to say this, it paved the way for a lifetime lived in fear. In his own words, that incident made Louis ‘want to be a different person’,” and Ileana holds up her hands and makes air quotes to emphasize her point.

She turns back to Louis, and stares at him for a moment before continuing, “So, when your stepfather brought up Brian it brought up the fear buried in you that would become a deciding factor in many of the choices you made throughout your life, didn’t it Louis?

Louis makes no attempt to respond.

“You told on Stan because you needed your stepfather to stop talking about the one thing you feared most about yourself: the fear that you were gay. Isn’t that correct, Louis?”

Louis feels his body start to tremble. He’s emotionally exhausted and physically drained, beat up and wrung out. He just feels _bad_. He feels hurt and is dismayed that all of these memories that he’s so safely locked away for so long have been set free and are now threatening to break him. Marcus had warned him that the Review would be intense, but he had no idea it would be some kind of twisted therapy session where his very most private moments, deepest thoughts, and hidden shames were laid bare for everyone to see.

Marcus shakes his head slowly, anger evident on his face. He speaks before Louis has a chance to respond to Ileana’s question.

“Your honors,” he says, his voice agitated but restrained, “what twelve year old is fully comfortable with their sexuality? Gay, straight, bi, pan, or even asexual, it doesn’t matter; most adolescents would be mortified if their parent brought up an incident where they caught them kissing another person, especially if they brought up that incident in front of others. Louis said he was embarrassed when his stepfather introduced the subject of Brian and it is clear on his face that he was. Just because he was uncomfortable with the topic, doesn’t mean that he was afraid, in fact, it is my argument that he simply was having a normal adolescent reaction, just like any other kid his age would.”

“I _was_ embarrassed,” Louis interjects and he holds his head up and looks at Ileana directly as he speaks. “I know you don’t believe me, and I know that I didn’t accept who I was for many years and yes, a large part of that had to do with that incident and what I thought others would think about me.” He lets out a deep breath and sits straighter in his chair, he needs to get this out and he needs to make Ileana and the justices understand that not every action he ever made in his lifetime was dictated by fear.

“I am not defending that I told on Stan. I immediately regretted doing that and as it turns out, Mark was so disgusted with me that he never called the coach or Stan’s dad anyway. Not that it made it okay,” he quickly adds, “but he told me I deserved to take the fall for being so stupid.” Louis scrubs his hand over his face. “But… but that’s not the point I’m even trying to make,” he says.

“What point are you trying to make, Louis?” Ileana asks and there is no judgment in her voice.

“The point I am trying to make is that I was embarrassed about the whipping.”

Ileana raises an eyebrow and tilts her head to the side, considering. “You were more embarrassed about the punishment you received than the fact that your stepfather caught you kissing another boy?”

“I was mortified about both things, actually,” Louis responds truthfully. “I was embarrassed about getting caught kissing Brian, yes. But that was because my stepfather made me feel so shitty about it.” He looks at the justices and sheepishly adds, “Sorry for all the cursing,” before continuing.

“I didn’t want Mark to talk about the kiss because I believed at the time that it was wrong, and I believed that it was wrong because of how Mark acted toward me after. But honestly, I was just as embarrassed by the whipping Mark gave me as I was the kiss, because when he beat me with that belt, it was the most degrading experience of my life.”

Louis feels anger rising in his belly now, pushing out the sadness and regret, as anger often does. “I was so ashamed that he did that to me, punished me like I was nothing, like I was inhuman, like I was… worthless livestock. It made me feel weak and vulnerable. And the worst part was that I had football practice the next day and my arse was so sore that the sit-ups and the squats and the other warm-up exercises I was required to do nearly killed me.”

He doesn’t mention the fact that he also had to see Brian, and that seeing Brian after what had happened the day before almost hurt as much as the throbbing pain of his reddened and raw bum. When Brian walked out onto the pitch that day, he and Louis avoided eye contact and they didn’t speak. After that, Brian stopped hanging out with Louis’ friends and when Stan asked why he had buggered off, Louis told him they had a fight because Brian had a crush on Eleanor. It was a total fabrication, a ridiculous lie, but it was much better than telling Stan the truth. Two years later, Brian’s family moved to another part of the country and Louis never saw him again.

“I somehow managed to make it through practice even though the assistant coach pulled me aside to tell me that I needed to loosen up because my movements were so stiff. So I did my best, because I was so afraid someone would find out what had happened. I was terrified my shorts would ride up and wouldn’t cover the bruises that extended from my buttocks down to the tops of the back of my thighs, or that the cuts on my arse would bleed.”

Louis rolls his eyes and huffs out an ironic laugh. “At the end of practice, Stan came over and swatted me on the bum for a job well done and I almost fell to my knees right there, because the pain was so excruciating.”

Louis cringes, thinking back on the moment, how his knees buckled and he let out a sharp yelp of pain when Stan’s palm made contact with his bruised and raw backside. It took all the energy within him to stay upright and he remembers how Stan had laughed, thinking Louis was being melodramatic.

Louis looks at the judges’ bench and can see the empathy on each of the justices’ faces. Ileana looks pained too, and Marcus just looks so angry and Louis knows it’s because he’s upset that Louis suffered in such a way.

Louis clears his throat, “So when Mark brought up Brian at the dinner table, I _was_ embarrassed because I had kissed a boy, yes, that’s true. But really, all I could think about was being held down and thrashed as if I was some kind of monster because that kiss happened. I just couldn’t go there; it was too humiliating an experience and I needed to make him stop. So I told on Stan and I’m sorry I did that. But, I… I just needed to make him stop,” he repeats, his voice softer, but still confident.

And that’s it. Louis has nothing more to say on the subject. He feels ravaged and sad, but he also feels proud of himself because he spoke the truth, regardless of whether those in the Review Room believe him or not. He looks over at Marcus and Marcus’ lips turn up in a small smile and he nods his head proudly at Louis.

Ileana looks at Louis, her face unreadable as she says, “Okay, Louis.” She tilts her head and pauses for a minute, examining Louis closely. Her voice is soft when she adds, “I believe you.” She returns to her chair behind the delegate’s table but first looks to the justices to state, “I have nothing further, your honors.”

Chief Justice Wen nods and then turns to Marcus, asking him if he would like to make a closing statement for the day. Marcus answers yes and then walks over to Louis, standing by his side and placing a hand on Louis’ shoulder.

“My client endured a lot this afternoon,” he starts, “and I don’t want to rehash everything we just witnessed, other than to say that the delegate for the universe got it wrong.” Marcus turns to Ileana and she stares back at him, her lips pursed and her brow furrowed.

“Somehow, the delegate managed to conflate a clip of Louis performing a selfless act for a friend into an act of cowardice, _an act of fear_ ,” he emphasizes. "As we have all witnessed, that simply was not the case. What we did witness was the normal human behavior of an adolescent child. My hope, your honors, is that over the course of this Review you will consider that simply because an action can be perceived to be derived in fear, fear is not always the motivating factor at play.”

Marcus continues talking for a few minutes, extolling Louis’ selflessness at helping Stan at his own expense, and then he outright counters and dismisses each of Ileana’s arguments, one by one, solidifying the fact that Louis was embarrassed and not frightened when he told his stepfather that it was Stan and not Louis who had forgotten their equipment. By the time he is finished speaking, Louis has started to feel the weight of the afternoon lift from his shoulders and he is beginning to feel better.

After Marcus concludes his statement he returns to his chair and the Chief Justice thanks both the advocate and delegate for their dedication to the service of the universe before calling it a day. “We’ll convene tomorrow morning at 9 AM,” she says, then adjourns the session.

Louis, Marcus, and Ileana stand as the justices leave the courtroom and as Ileana packs up her briefcase she smiles at Louis. “You’re a fighter,” she comments, before looking to Marcus and nodding and then heading out the Review Room door.

Louis stands from the Screening Chair and goes to sit beside Marcus at the advocate’s table. For the second time today, the sound of muffled laughter filters through the wall dividing Louis’ Review Room from Harry’s and Louis looks at Marcus and lets out a soft laugh, releasing the stress of his own session.

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” he asks. “Sounds like a regular party, while my Review is… Well, its miserable, actually.”

Marcus smiles. “Your boy has a lot going for him. Sam showed me his file and honestly, the acts of fearlessness that she’s showcasing in her clips are very strong, and some are quite funny.”

Louis can’t help but grin. He’s totally relieved that Harry isn’t enduring the same kind of emotional turmoil that his own Review is causing because after knowing Harry only less than two full days, he wants nothing but the best of everything for him.

“Listen, Louis,” Marcus says, “I know this afternoon was intense and I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. Unfortunately, I can’t promise it will get easier, in fact, it’s likely to get a lot worse, but I just want you to remember to stay true to you and to focus on your honest motivation for the way you acted in the clips that will be shown, because sincerely, Louis, it’s true what they say, ‘the truth shall set you free’.”

“But, why did she do it?” Louis whispers and once again he feels a pang of sadness as he thinks about his stepfather humiliating him with an abusive lashing because he kissed another boy. “Why did she bring up Brian?” his voice goes quiet as he adds, “Why does she hate me?”

“No. No, Louis, I can promise you, Ileana does _not_ hate you,” Marcus emphasizes, and he looks Louis straight in the eyes, unflinching. “I know this is hard for you to believe, but Ileana is simply doing her job. And let me tell you, being a delegate is one of the hardest jobs in the universe. I don’t envy her one bit.”

“Well, why does she do it then? It’s like, I think she is nice one minute, and then the next minute she’s going for my throat, making me question every little thing about myself, and just, making me feel like… _shit_. Why don’t you and she show happy clips of my life? Why does everything have to be so serious?”

“Because we aren’t challenged when life is easy, Louis. It’s when things are difficult and when we face obstacles that we show our true characters.”

Louis lets out a sigh, because he understands what Marcus is saying, but still, he’s only had one day of Review and it’s been one of the most emotionally taxing and physically draining things he’s ever experienced. He just doesn’t understand why it has to be this way.

Once again, a burst of muted laughter is heard from Harry’s Review Room and Louis bites his lip to contain his smile, even though he’s still feeling conflicted about the Review process.

Marcus must sense Louis’ confusion, because he continues speaking. “I know this process is painful, Louis,” and he points to the wall, indicating Harry’s Review Room. “Most people don’t have it like your boy, but that doesn’t mean Harry has it easier than anybody else, it just means that Harry has lived enough lives that during his last one, he was no longer bound by fear. And this is going to sound unbelievable to you, but your Review is significantly less challenging than what a lot of other Intakes are undergoing.”

Louis squints his eyes in confusion. “What do you mean? How can it possibly be worse than this?”

“Because, Louis, even though Ileana is bringing up painful episodes in your life and those episodes make you feel like absolute shit…” Marcus pauses, his voice sympathetic as he continues, “and even though your reactions to events in your life can be construed as fear, you’ve actually lived quite honorably. You’re right on the cusp, Louis, and those are the hardest cases for the universe to decide.”

“They are?” Louis asks.

“Absolutely,” Marcus answers. “The vast majority of Reviews are cut and dry: at least seventy-five percent of Intakes get sent back to Earth to try life again. For most of the Intakes here, the Reviews are lengthy examinations of clip after clip of personal failures caused by fear. I know I told you that the number of days we look at isn’t important, and they’re really not, but I will tell you that in your case, we’re not looking at that many days. So far we’ve only looked at two days of your life, even though we’ve shown four clips. Can you imagine the stress you’d be under if we looked at ten days, or fifteen?” Marcus shakes his head and sighs. “That’s one of the reasons things are so incredibly comfortable and wonderful here. If you’re looking at fifteen days of personal failures, unbelievable food and world-class entertainment can go a long way in taking away some of the burn and can make the stay here much more enjoyable. And that’s important, because every Resident here truly wants this to be the best experience possible for the Intakes, whether they’re returning to Earth or moving ahead.”

“Holy shit,” Louis mutters, his voice full of awe.

“Exactly,” Marcus responds. “I know the emotional toll you’re under, Louis. I also know that it doesn’t matter what any other Intake is going through, because your experience is your own and what you feel during your Review is personal and completely valid. But, I just want you to know that people like Ileana serve a purpose. It’s hard to understand, but she has one of the most difficult jobs in the universe. The delegates…” Marcus pauses as if trying to find the right words, “the delegates don’t enjoy making Intakes feel bad about their life choices; they’re not happy badgering people and bringing up personal memories that cause them pain, but they do so because without this process, there would be no balance in the universe.”

“I don’t understand,” Louis says and Marcus doesn’t even hide his grin when he replies, “Of course you don’t, you only use three and a half percent of your brain.”

“Very funny, Marcus,” Louis counters, rolling his eyes.

Marcus chuckles and then schools his expression. “Seriously, Louis, this whole system is designed to ensure that the universe is in harmony.” Marcus holds up his index finger and swirls it beside his head, “If every Intake moved forward regardless if they were ready or not, there would be utter chaos in every realm. These Reviews are a system of checks and balances and ensure that everyone is where they should be in the celestial system, and _when_ they should be. That way, we can all contribute to the universe in the best way possible, as a whole.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Louis replies and his head is swimming at the way the universe works. This is certainly not what he was taught in Sunday school, and it’s far from anything he ever imagined when he contemplated death.

Marcus smiles. “There is nothing _to_ say, Louis. I know today was difficult, but I want you to know that you did amazingly well. I’ve only been up against Ileana a few times, but I can honestly tell you that in those Reviews she questioned the Intakes for hours and was able to easily prove their fears. You’re different. You’re not so cut and dry and you can go either way. You’re in a good position, Louis, and so is your boy, Harry. I want you to remember that and I want you to keep doing what you’re doing and I’m going to keep fighting for you.”

Louis looks at Marcus and feels overwhelmed with gratitude. “I’m so happy you’re on my side,” he says and then raises his fist to bump with Marcus’.

“I am too, Louis,” Marcus answers, as he bumps Louis’ fist back. “I am too. Now get out of here and go see your boy. I imagine the two of you have some ridiculous plans tonight that involve him leaving more marks all over your neck,” Marcus teases.

Louis palms his face and shakes his head, smiling. “I’m so bloody embarrassed,” he laughs, as he slides his hand on his neck to cover the lovebite left by Harry. “I’m actually not seeing him tonight though, he’s got some sort of dinner party at Sam’s to attend.”

“Oh!” Marcus responds, raising his eyebrows. “So, he was invited to the big brain soiree, was he?” he laughs. “Very interesting! Well, there will be a lot of very smart people in attendance. Harry’s quite smart himself, so it will be a lot of fun for him.”

“Um… How much of his brain does Harry use?” Louis asks, then immediately regrets the question.

Marcus just grins at him. “It’s not important, Louis, I promise. Don’t let his brain capacity, or the number of days he’s looking at bring you down. He’s your soul mate, I’m sure of it. The two of you are perfectly matched.”

Louis can’t help but smile shyly at Marcus’ answer; he loves the idea that Harry is his soul mate, his other half.

“So if your boy is busy hanging with the likes of Albert Einstein and Alan Turing, what are you going to be do this evening, then?” Marcus asks.

Louis’ eyes go wide. “Albert Einstein and Alan Turing are going to be at Sam’s party?” he asks, completely failing to hide the awe in his voice.

Marcus grins, “I’m joking, Louis. But there will be some very impressive people in attendance.”

“I’m actually going to play some footie. I’ve heard the pitches are great here, and even though the footie clip you showed this afternoon led to the complete unraveling of my mental well-being,” he teases nudging Marcus in the shoulder, “I really want to play. I can’t wait to be in the fresh air and kick the ball around.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan, Louis,” Marcus responds. “Besides, tomorrow is only a half-day, so you’ll have plenty of time to spend with your boy.”

“A half-day?” Louis asks, but Marcus just brushes him off.

“You’ll find out tomorrow why,” he says, “but I don’t want you to worry about it, it’s a good thing, I promise. Now get out of here and go find him. I’m sure you’ve got more snogging to do before you two have to split for the evening.”

Louis reaches out his hand and the two bump fists again. “Thanks, mate,” he says, and his face is open and sincere. “You’re a good man, Kanye.”

Marcus snorts a laugh as he packs up his briefcase. He starts to sing, “ _In the night, I hear 'em talk, the coldest story ever told…_ ”

Louis laughs and joins him on the next verse, “ _Somewhere far along this road, he lost his soul to a woman so heartless. How could you be so heartless?_ ”

Marcus snaps his briefcase shut and grins at Louis, “Get out of here, Louis. Go see your boy.”

Louis winks at Marcus and exits the Review Room. The door to Harry’s room is still closed and Louis can hear the animated voices inside, so he uses the opportunity to go down the hall to use the loo. He must have drunk a pitcher of water during his afternoon session and it suddenly hits him that he really needs a wee.

The sign on the bathroom door indicates that it’s available for use by all genders and Louis assumes that’s why there are no urinals along the wall, but rather a series of private stalls. He’s entered the farthest stall and is lifting his tupa up to finally relieve himself when he realizes that perhaps the only drawback to these ridiculously comfortable garments is that they don’t have a flap to make taking a leak easier for men. He supposes it’s only fair though; women have been dealing with practically having to undress themselves to use the toilet since the dawn of time.

Afterwards, he goes to the sink and washes his hands, and then he takes in his appearance in the mirror. His eyes are puffy and rimmed red from all the crying he’s done, and his hair is a mess from his earlier romp in the park with Harry. He turns his head slowly and is shocked by the giant red and purple bruise on the side of his neck. He runs his fingers over it and whispers “dirty boy,” and breathes a soft sigh at the touch.

Louis decides to splash some cold water on his face to try to freshen up and hopefully help his eyelids return to their normal, non-puffy state. He’s just pulled a towel from the wall-mounted dispenser and is patting his face dry when he hears the bathroom door open. Before he even has time to turn around, he feels long arms snake around his waist from behind and his body is pulled backwards so that he’s cradled against a broad chest. Harry’s.

“If this is the janitor, you’ve got another thing coming if you think I’ll put out simply because you’ve supplied this loo with the softest disposable towels that ever existed.”

He feels a warm puff of breath on his neck as Harry laughs.

“Well, if the towels don’t make you mine, surely the hand soap will bring you to my bed,” Harry whispers and Louis feels the hairs stand up on the back of his neck at the sound of his deep, raspy voice, not to mention the thought of being in Harry’s bed.

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis chuckles, then turns around to face him.

Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to Louis’ lips and when he pulls away, his eyes widen and his mouth falls open in surprise.

“Louis,” he says, his voice full of concern. “Have you been crying, love? What happened during your Review?”

“Oh,” Louis says, and he rolls his head back, “it was just a rough session. They brought up something that happened when I was young and it... it was just really difficult. But, I'm okay now, though.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asks, his brows furrowed in worry. “What can I do to help?”

“Just the fact that you are here is help enough, Harry,” Louis answers. “But I do want to talk to you about it. I… I just don’t think I want to talk about it right now,” Louis answers honestly, as the thought of rehashing his afternoon session is too much to bear at the moment.

Louis looks at his watch, “What time is your dinner party tonight?”

“I can cancel,” Harry offers, his voice earnest. “I’d rather spend time with you anyway, Lou.”

“No! No!” Louis responds and pulls Harry into a hug. “I won’t hear about it. Marcus tells me it’s going to be amazing and you’re going to meet some very smart people. I’m so proud you were invited.”

“Well, I was thinking of asking Sam if I could bring a date,” Harry says and he looks at Louis hopefully. Louis bites his lip and brushes his thumb across Harry’s cheek.

“That’s so lovely of you, Harry. You’re so wonderful to want to include me, but I don’t want to impose.” Harry raises his eyebrows and starts to protest but Louis continues, “Besides, I really want to play some footie tonight. When I was on Earth, I played nearly every day and I just want to run around a bit and try to clear my head of the Review, you know?”

Harry nods his head in understanding. “Well, that sounds like a great idea then, Louis.” He smiles bashfully and adds, “I can only imagine how amazing you look in a football kit,” and his face is so beautiful that Louis doesn’t even think about the afternoon he just endured that all started with talk of football gear.

“Cheeky boy,” Louis grins. “I’m hoping my concierge Donald will get me in on a good pitch. They’re supposed to be phenomenal here.”

Harry takes both of Louis’ hands in his own and looks down at them as he runs his thumbs along Louis’ index fingers. “Maybe if it’s not too late when we’re both done, we could see each other again? I mean, if you want to of course. You could come to mine or –”

Louis cuts him off with a kiss. “I’d love that Harry. You’re hotel is _one_ on the dial and mine is _two_ , shouldn’t be too hard to get in touch when we get back.”

Harry nods his head and then his mouth turns up into a smirk as he pulls Louis backwards and into one of the toilet stalls, shutting and locking the door behind them.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, his voice both teasing and rough with desire as Harry pushes him against the door to the stall and starts kissing along his jaw. “You know this is a public facility, Harold, someone might come in and hear us.”

“Don’t care,” Harry answers, as he brushes his lips against Louis’. Louis draws in a deep breath at how soft they are and he easily melts into the kiss, Harry licking into his mouth and their tongues gliding together in the sweetest way. “I just need three minutes,” Harry continues. “Three minutes of uninterrupted snogging and then we can go.”

Louis pulls back and smiles and then leans in to nip Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth, Harry’s lust-blown eyes immediately falling shut in response. He presses in for a deeper kiss and then once again pulls back, Harry chasing his mouth in frustration. Louis grins, “I don’t think three minutes works for me, Hazza,” he sighs, and Harry raises his eyebrows in question. “Let’s make it ten.”

 

 

 


	8. You Got the Dagger

The ten minutes Louis had given himself to kiss Harry senseless in a toilet stall in the 46th floor East Wing restroom of the Review Center quickly turned to fifteen minutes, and then to twenty. Louis and Harry were so worked up by the time they untangled their limbs and pulled apart that they had to take an additional seven minutes for their erections to go down before they could even leave the loo.

“I’m definitely coming over tonight,” Harry declares, his voice raspy, as they finally walk out of the restroom and head for the lifts, hand in hand.

“Oh, yes, you definitely are,” Louis agrees and he pulls Harry’s hand up to his mouth, brushing a kiss over his knuckles. When their lift arrives, the two enter and both automatically wave to the camera mounted in the upper corner.

“Do you think Ed sees us when we wave to him?” Harry asks.

“I’m not sure,” Louis answers, then looks at the camera and pulls a funny face, crossing his eyes and pointing his finger skyward, Harry giggling beside him.

Louis turns to face Harry, “He’s got twenty lifts he’s monitoring, but if I had his job and you were riding in one of the cars I was looking after, you can bet that my full attention would be on that _one_ car and the ridiculously attractive curly-haired man inside of it.”

Harry’s cheeks flush the softest pink. “Louis,” he whispers, and the way he says his name sends a shiver down Louis’ spine.

They arrive at the lobby and exit the building, standing together as they wait for the trams that will pick them up and take them back to their respective hotels.

“I’ll call your hotel as soon as I get back from playing footie and if you’re not back yet, I’ll wait up,” Louis says, as Harry leans in for a kiss.

“And I’ll call _your_ hotel when I get back from the dinner party and if you’re not back yet, I’ll do the same. Wait up that is… for you to get back.” Harry smiles dopily at Louis, “I just really want to see you tonight.”

As they wait for the trams, Harry slides his arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in close. He rubs his hand up and down Louis’ back and Louis leans his head on Harry’s shoulder, perfectly content.

Before long, a green tram arrives, followed immediately by a blue tram that parks directly behind the green. Louis reaches up and gives Harry a kiss goodbye. “See you later tonight, Hazza,” he says, and gives him one more kiss for good measure before they reluctantly part ways.

Louis takes a window seat near the front of the tram and he leans back and closes his eyes, trying not to think about the way Harry grinded up against him in the loo, or the way his large hands perfectly gripped Louis’ arse cheeks in the most exquisitely satisfying way.

But, god, kissing Harry is just so incredible and touching Harry and _being touched by him_ , is even better. Louis can’t wait until tonight when he can be alone with Harry in a private room where they don’t have to worry about someone walking in on them and they can do whatever they want. And what Louis really wants to do is explore every inch of Harry’s body with the tips of his fingers, with his lips, and with his tongue.

He rests his hands on his lap to cover the growing bulge beneath his tupa as the thought of what it will be like to see Harry out of that long, cream-colored garment and in nothing more than his pants (or better yet, nothing at all), lingers in his mind.

_Fuck, I know his body is so beautiful under all of that material_ , Louis thinks, and then pushes that thought out of his head in favor of cats and cartoons and Cocoa Pops as he tries desperately to get his raging desire under control before he arrives back at his hotel.

He is only _semi_ successful.

When the tram doors open, Louis practically runs off the shuttle and through the hotel lobby to the bank of lifts, one thankfully arriving almost immediately after Louis pushes the _Up_ button. He paces back and forth in the lift until it arrives at the 12 th floor and Louis waves hurriedly when he passes Rowan and Peter in the hallway leading to his room, half yelling, “Sorry, no time to chat!” before he jabs his thumb against the keypad to Room 1215 and he hears the door unlock.

Louis enters his hotel room and practically slams the door shut behind him. He leans against the door for a minute trying to catch his breath, but in the course of one afternoon he’s had three, _very intense_ make-out sessions with Harry, the latter of which involved copious grinding, and Louis hasn’t had so much as a single physical payoff. To be fair, just feeling Harry’s lips against his own is payoff enough, but still, Louis wants more.

“Fucking hell, Harry,” he growls and then pulls off his belt, throwing it to the floor. He wastes no time stripping off his tupa and tossing it next to the belt before he has one hand down his pants and is grasping the base of his now throbbing cock.

Louis doesn’t feel like toying around, he doesn’t want to tease himself, he just wants release, and so his grip is firm as he pulls fast and hard, the gratification derived from his own touch almost indescribable.

He wraps the top of his hand over his head, gathering the precome that is beaded there and swiping it onto his palm, the moisture enabling him to work his length even harder and faster. It only takes a few more strokes and he feels the sweet pull of imminent release, the muscles in his abdomen contracting and his belly thrumming with a delicious tingling sensation.

One more tug and then he’s coming, his orgasm shooting out of the head of his cock and splattering across the tight muscles in the center of his chest. A few droplets fall onto the tiny swell of his tummy and a large splotch lands on the front of his pants, soaking into the material.

Louis leans his head back against the hotel room door and drags his fingertips through the mess on his chest, his breath heavy and his limbs loose as he waits for his body to come down.

“Fucking hell, I love him so much,” he whispers and then he pushes himself off the door and heads into the en suite to take a quick shower, picking up his tupa and belt from off the floor and tossing them along with his soiled pants into the hamper on his way in.

It’s a quarter till six when Louis steps out of the shower and dons his bathrobe. He calls Donald and asks him if he can help arrange for him to play football that evening and Donald enthusiastically obliges. Five minutes later, there is a knock on Louis’ door and when he opens it there stands Donald behind a cart full of food.

“I thought if you were going to play football you would need a high-protein dinner so that you can perform at your best. I took the liberty of choosing your menu, Louis. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all!” Louis answers happily, and he’s suddenly very hungry and very grateful that Donald is so thoughtful. “That was so kind of you, Donald. You’re really ace, do you know that?”

Donald smiles shyly. “Just doing my job, sir… Er…. Louis.”

Donald pushes the cart over to the sitting area and Louis helps him transfer the food from the cart onto the coffee table. For dinner, Donald has brought Louis grilled chicken breast basted in a tangy, marmalade glaze. It’s served with a heaping side of shitake risotto and charred broccoli, and for desert there is a bowl of the most colorful and succulent fresh-cut fruit Louis has ever seen or tasted. Everything is spectacular, per usual, and Louis sips lemon infused ice water and steaming tea to wash it all down.

“This is all so wonderful, Donald,” Louis says as he shovels a piece of chicken into his mouth, the savory bite of the seared poultry perfectly balanced by the sweetness of the glaze. “I can’t think of a better meal to have before playing. It’s light, but it’s filling, and good god, is it absolutely delicious.”

“We aim to please, Louis,” Donald grins. “Now then, shall I show you the football recreation centers and their pitches so you can choose where you would like to play tonight?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Louis answers and then stabs a piece of bright pink fruit he doesn’t recognize with his fork. When he bites into it his eyes nearly roll back into his head, the fruit tasting almost like a hybrid of raspberries and pineapple, the sweet flavor melding on Louis’ tongue. “God, the food here is so good,” he mumbles as he takes another bite.

Donald just smiles and picks up the remote control. He turns on the huge flat screen television that is mounted on the wall opposite the couch and hits a few buttons and then an infomercial starts about the football pitches in Judgment City.

The film starts with a wide shot where the only thing visible is the most lush, green lawn Louis has ever seen. A narrator starts speaking, “Do you like football? Then you’re going to love the pitches of Judgment City UK!” Just then, a football is kicked into the shot from somewhere out of frame, the ball sailing over the grass and crashing into a pristine white net, the bars of the surrounding goal shining in the sunlight.

The narrator continues, “First stop on our tour of Judgment City UK’s pitches are the lush fields of Aldomar.” The film then cuts to an overhead shot of a large, outdoor recreation center boasting four football pitches that are located on a flat hilltop overlooking the sea. Graphic bullet points appear onscreen listing the virtues of Aldomar, detailing everything from the condition of the grass and goals, to showcasing the changing room facilities and clubhouse bar.

The next football area featured is called Guernseyville, and this recreation center is larger than the first, having eight pitches in addition to a training room, practice lawn and full-service spa where players can relax in a mud bath or get an exfoliating salt scrub after play.

“That one looks a bit fancy for my tastes,” Louis says, and Donald nods his head in agreement.

But it’s the third football center, _Shepherdshire_ , which really catches Louis’ attention. It’s much smaller than the first two and is comprised of a large stretch of flat lawn that is surrounded by rolling hills. There are only two pitches and a practice field at Shepherdshire, but they are very well appointed from the shining goal posts to the stadium-style bleacher seating. The grass is the darkest shade of green and the hills on the east and south sides of the recreation area are covered in wildflowers, while the hills on the north and west must be part of a farm, because dozens of sheep graze happily in the grass and are occasionally wrangled in by black and white Australian Shepherd dogs. The narrator is just starting to extol the features of the simple, cobblestone changing room when Louis jumps up from the couch and points at the screen.

“I want to play there!” Louis says, smiling and nodding his head enthusiastically.

Donald pauses the television. “Shepherdshire? That’s really a wonderful choice, Louis. Most people don’t pick it. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait until you’ve seen all the pitches before deciding? There are four more football recreation areas in and around the city.”

“No,” Louis states emphatically. “I want to play Shepherdshire. The hills are so beautiful and it’s simple, but it looks like it has everything I could want. On Earth I played in a league with my best mate Liam and the pitches at Shepherdshire remind me of our team’s home field. Is it okay if I play there? Can you arrange it?”

“Of course,” Donald answers. “Shepherdshire is an excellent choice. Quite frankly, most people don’t choose it because it’s the furthest out of the city and is the smallest one of the lot. But I think it’s lovely. I play there every week. It’s a favorite among the Residents.”

“You play there, Donald? You play footie?”

“Yes, I’m quite a fan of the sport. I’m not the best player, but I do enjoy it. In fact, I’m on a league myself. Shepherdshire is our home field.”

Louis’ eyes widen in surprise at the fact that there are football leagues in the Afterlife. “Would you want to join me tonight, Donald? If you’re free, I mean,” Louis asks.

Donald seems genuinely touched by the invitation. “That’s really kind of you, Louis, but I’m afraid I have to work tonight and then I have an engagement to attend. There will be new Intakes arriving at The Regency in forty-five minutes and I need to be here to meet my new charges, and afterwards, I’m attending a dinner party with some of my former colleagues.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Donald, I can’t believe you are cheating on me with other Intakes,” he teases and Donald grins.

“Don’t worry, sir... Louis! I mean, don’t worry, Louis. You’re by far my favorite.” Donald then winks and says under his breath, “Just keep that last bit to yourself. Wouldn’t want Rowan getting jealous.” Louis snorts out a laugh.

“I should go and let you get dressed. I’ll arrange for a transfer tram for you and then I’ll call Shepherdshire and let them know you’ll be playing this evening. They’ll assign you a team if you’d like to play a regular match, or if you’d prefer just to practice, you can simply use the practice field.”

“I’d really like to play in a match,” Louis answers and he begins to feel that same, familiar anticipation and excitement he felt on Earth whenever it was game day. He’s really happy about the prospect of playing this evening, his body feels like it needs the exercise and after today’s Review, he definitely can use the stress relief that football always brings him.

“Okay, then,” Donald says, “can you be downstairs in let’s say…” he looks at his watch considering, “fifteen minutes?”

“Of course!” Louis answers and he hops up and down on the balls of his feet, pre-game energy already coursing through his veins. “But, um. What am I supposed to wear, Donald?”

“Just wear a tupa like you normally would. The recreation centers are fully stocked with kits including cleats and shin guards and they’ll get you all set up with the proper gear when you arrive.”

Donald leaves and Louis quickly brushes his teeth and gets dressed. He’s down in the lobby in ten minutes and the small transport tram that will be taking him to Shepherdshire is already waiting out front. There are three other Intakes from Louis’ hotel who are also heading to Shepherdshire and the four of them engage in easy conversation on the trip over.

The sun is low in the sky, but has not quite set as the tram drives out of the city and through the deep valleys and colorful countryside that stretch on either side of the blacktop road leading to Shepherdshire. Louis notes that it’s awfully late for the sun to still be out and another man on the tram, Roger, points out that he’s noticed that the sun doesn’t usually set until after eight at night in Judgment City.

“It’s breathtaking though, isn’t it?” Roger asks, and Louis has to agree. The skyline is almost a reverse of what Louis observed when he watched the sunrise on his first day in the Afterlife. To the east of the sun, the sky is swirling hues of dark blue, purple and pink, while the sky on the western side of the road is a mixture of deep shades of red, orange, and yellow. The grass is a patchwork of more shades of green than Louis would ever have thought possible. It is darker in the valleys and flatlands, while the grass on the hills ranges from bright green to an almost bluish shade. It’s all so beautiful and Louis wishes he had a camera so he could take a picture, but he’s not so sure there is photography in the Afterlife.

The tram pulls up in front of the Shepherdshire Recreation Center twenty minutes later and as Louis and the others head into the main building to gear up, he can already hear applause coming from the bleachers and an announcer calling out plays through speakers mounted on the light posts that surround each pitch.

A greeter stands just inside the door and directs Louis and the others from his tram to a long counter on the far side of the room where they’ll pick up their footie gear. A large sign hangs over the counter and reads, “Fitting Specialists” and behind the counter are two entranceways into a back room where Louis supposes the kits and cleats are stored. There are at least eight attendants who stand behind the counter and they’re each dressed in bright blue Adidas track suits, embroidered with their names over the left breast.

“Never thought the Afterlife would have so many brand name products,” Louis says softly, to no one in particular.

“That’s because we want this experience to be as comfortable as possible for the Intakes. And what makes people the most comfortable? Things that are familiar,” a female voice replies in an accent that Louis thinks sounds Spanish, but he’s not quite sure.

He turns around to see the person behind the voice and finds a woman with a shock of curly brown hair that is accented with bright blue and purple highlights. She’s dressed in the same blue Adidas track suit the others wear and the name “Luciana” is embroidered on her jacket.

“That makes sense,” Louis answers. “Of course, what I’m wearing really isn’t that familiar to me.” He sweeps one arm in front of his body, exaggeratingly showing off his tupa.

“Yes, but is it comfortable?” she asks.

“I think it’s the most comfortable thing I’ve ever worn… like, ever,” Louis responds.

She raises an eyebrow at him and smirks, “Well good. Then you’ve no need to complain, have you?”

_She’s kind of a smartass_ , Louis thinks, and he likes her immediately.

“So, can you help me with my kit?” Louis asks. “My name is ‘Louis’ by the way.

“Absolutely, Louis,” Luciana responds and then shakes Louis’ hand. “That’s what I’m here for. Now stand back so I can size you up.”

Louis takes a step backwards and Luciana walks around him in a slow circle. “Hold up your arms,” she orders and Louis does as he’s told.

“Listen, how about I just tell you my shirt size and shoe size and that will make this a lot – ”

“How about you let me do my job and not give me helpful sizing hints, okay?”

“You are a sassy one, aren’t you?” Louis says, and he can’t help but grin.

Luciana stands in front of Louis and there is the slightest smile on her lips. She shakes her head ever so slightly then stoops to her knees, examining his feet.

“You’ve got tiny feet. Dainty even, they’re like a doll’s feet,” she teases.

“Shit!” Louis says and he rolls his eyes in faux exasperation, “What have I done to deserve this treatment? You’re literally the first person I’ve met here with an attitude.”

Luciana stands and looks Louis in the eyes. “Isn’t it refreshing?” she asks, and then winks. “Meet me over at the counter. I’ll only be a minute; I’ve got to go into the back room to get your kit.”

Louis does as he is told and sure enough Luciana appears in under a minute carrying a small pile of clothing, as well as a pair of football cleats in her arms.

“Are you Spanish?” Louis can’t help but ask.

“I’m Brazilian, actually. What gave me away, my Irish accent?”

Louis throws his head back and laughs. “Portuguese, Irish, they’re barely distinguishable from one another anyway.” Luciana plays along, nodding her head as if Louis is speaking the absolute truth. “So how did you end up in Judgment City UK? Don’t they have these places in South America?

“They do,” she responds, “but I requested a transfer a few years ago. I needed a break from the heat. Part of ‘keeping things familiar for the Intakes’,” Luciana says using air quotes to emphasize her point, “is that Judgment City South America can get quite hot. It’s one of the most beautiful places in the universe, and all of the buildings are air conditioned, but still, I spent practically my whole life being blasted with fans and listening to the whirring motors of air conditioners. I wanted a change of pace, you know?”

Louis nods his head in understanding, even though he doesn’t really know. He’d never been to South America when he was alive, although he had been to Australia and one time he visited Las Vegas, and those places were both unbearably hot.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I’ll be sure to mention how affable you are when I fill out my next comment card.”

This time, Luciana laughs and Louis joins her. He likes this kind of biting banter. He could sometimes be a bit of a smartass on Earth and he always appreciates meeting people who can give as well as they can get when it comes to snark.

“So here is your uniform,” Luciana says and slides the pile across the counter to Louis, placing a pair of bright green Adidas ACE football cleats directly beside the tiny heap of clothes.

Louis picks up the garment on top and holds it out before him, examining it carefully. He puts it down and picks up the next garment in the pile and does the same thing. There are three garments total, along with a pair of shin guards and knee socks.

The first item looks to be some kind of modified tupa. It’s the same cream color as the tupa Louis is currently wearing, but the upper portion of the garment is definitely more fitted. It has the same wide collar as a standard tupa too, but instead of long, loose sleeves with fitted cuffs, this garment has short, capped sleeves that are ruched and look like they will barely cover Louis’ shoulders. Worst of all, the thing is incredibly short. Like, ridiculously short. It looks like it will barely be long enough to cover Louis’ plump arse.

The length of the tupa wouldn’t concern him so much if his kit included standard issue football shorts, but it doesn’t. Instead is a pair of bright green short pants made of a stretchy woven material. They actually look like a pair of boxer briefs and Louis is sure that if he wore them over the pants he is currently wearing, his pants would be at least an inch or two longer. _These are bloody booty shorts_ , he thinks to himself.

There is a wide, elasticized satin belt, similar to the one he wears over his regular tupa, but this belt is the same bright green as the shorts. Louis picks up the belt and looks at it suspiciously.

“Is there a problem?” Luciana asks.

“Um. No problem, just… um… where is the rest of it?”

Luciana looks at him for a minute and then her eyes go wide. “Oh, yes! You’re right, you’ll probably need this.” She ducks beneath the counter and begins rifling through something and then stands up, a triumphant look on her face and a black elastic headband in her hand.

“Here you go. It will keep your fringe out of your eyes.”

Louis tilts his head back and forth and then nods, taking the headband from her. “Actually, this is great, I can use this, but, um… That’s not what I meant when I said, ‘the rest of it’.”

“Okay, then. The rest of what?”

“My kit,” Louis answers, and his voice squeaks a little in surprise, because this has to be some kind of a mistake. “Surely there are more clothes than this? I’ll look like a massage boy at an ancient Roman bathhouse if I wear this thing.”

Luciana chuckles and shakes her head. “Listen, did you ever play football on Earth?”

Louis places his hand on his chest, affronted. “Of course, I did. I played practically my whole life.”

“And were you always comfortable when you played?”

“Um…”

Louis is not quite sure how to answer the question. He loved playing football, of course, but sometimes the shorts he wore were too long and baggy and slowed him down or got twisted when he was running or making a play. Not to mention the fact that he absolutely _hated_ wearing athletic cups: if he had one on it felt like his dick was in a sling and if he didn’t wear one he felt like his balls were flying all over the place.

“Define comfortable,” Louis answers.

Luciana sighs. “Listen, Louis, that tupa you wear is the most comfortable garment you’ve ever worn, right?” Louis opens his mouth to speak but before he can say a word she cuts him off. “Don’t try to change your mind and tell me it isn’t, because you already told me it is.”

“It is,” Louis answers and lets out a deep breath.

“Then trust me when I tell you that in however many years you spent playing football, you never wore anything that came close to being as comfortable as this tiny pile of clothing that sits on this counter before you.”

“But it’s just so –”

“Don’t fight me on this. Just trust me. Go to the changing room and get your kit on and then go play some football and relieve some stress. When you’re done playing you can come back here and thank me and when you do, I want you tell me all about how you got that huge lovebite on the side of your neck.”

Louis’ mouth falls open in surprise and he slaps his hand over his neck. “Bloody hell!” he exclaims, but he can’t help but smile because even though a lovebite is kind of a juvenile thing for an adult man to be sporting, and even though before today he hadn’t gotten a proper lovebite in years, this particular lovebite is special because Harry gave it to him and being marked up by Harry is quickly becoming Louis’ favorite thing ever.

Luciana points to a set of doors to the left of the counter. “Go through those double doors and the changing room is about five meters straight ahead. There is a information booth just outside of the changing room and after you get dressed, go over to the booth and get your team assignment.” She smiles and adds, “Have a great match, Louis.”

Although he’s still unsure about the clothing he’ll be wearing, he thanks Luciana for her help and heads over to the changing room. As he’s about to open the door to go inside, two men walk out and they are wearing the same kit Louis holds in his hands and honestly, they seem completely unbothered, even though the garments they are wearing look like something straight out of film _Caligula_.

Louis enters the changing room and despite the humble cobblestone exterior, the facilities are quite amazing. On one side of the room are alternating rows of sleek black lockers and long wooden benches where people mill about changing into or out of their footie kits. The opposite side of the room features a large shower area boasting private shower stalls complete with private bidets and toilets. In the back of the room is a spa area that includes a sizable steam room, a massage room, and a huge hot tub where a couple of exhausted-looking players currently soak away muscle pain.

Louis walks over to the lockers and notices that mounted on the surface of each are a small chalkboard with a piece of chalk that hangs beside it from a tether. Several of the lockers are already scribbled with names of players who must be out on the pitches and so Louis looks for a clean board and when he finds one, he opens the locker just to make sure that nobody else’s clothing is inside. The locker is empty and so he closes the locker and picks up the attached chalk and writes ‘Louis Tomlinson’ on the mounted chalkboard and then, as an afterthought, he adds ‘28’. He smiles and starts to change into his kit.

He removes his tupa and folds it, placing it inside his locker along with his shoes. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to keep the pants he’s wearing on or not, but then he looks up and notices another player slide out of his own boxer briefs and into a pair of shorts exactly like the pair Louis will be wearing, except his are bright red. Louis follows suit, taking his pants off and then tossing them into the locker so that he is standing in the locker room completely nude until he steps into the tiny green shorts that Luciana gave him. He pulls them up over his thick thighs and they stretch over his round bum, the waistband sitting low on his hips.

Louis does an experimental squat and stands upright. The material stretches and is not constricting at all, but it somehow also manages to fully support his cock and balls. “Holy hell, these things are comfortable,” he mutters aloud and once again a voice responds, but this voice is familiar.

“They’re so great aren’t they? I swear, even though I’m a Resident and we wear really comfortable, albeit more _traditional_ football kits, nothing beats those ridiculously tiny uniforms you Intakes wear.”

Louis turns around and grins, happy to hear a familiar voice in this huge room full of strangers. “Ed! How’re you doing, mate? It’s great to see you again!”

Ed walks over to the lockers where Louis stands and drops a gym bag on the bench beside him and then pulls Louis into a quick hug. The hug should be awkward because Louis is practically naked, but it feels like nothing more than a hug from a longtime friend. Louis smiles, happy that he is making new friends on this side of life.

“I’m great, man. So glad you came out to play. I see you’re wearing the green shorts. That means you’ll be on my team. That’s bloody brilliant!”

Louis’ eyes widen in surprise. “Oh my god! That’s great. I’m so glad I’ll be playing with someone I know.” Louis then drops his voice, looking around the room before continuing. “I was really excited to get here tonight, but I have to tell you, after Luciana out front gave me this piece of tissue paper to wear, I started feeling kind of nervous.”

Ed nods his head and grins. “It really is a preposterous uniform, but I swear to you, Louis, it’s so comfortable, you won’t believe how well you play in it.”

“So what are you wearing then?” Louis asks as he pulls the tiny modified tupa over his head. Ed opens his gym bag and dumps its contents on the bench. It contains standard football gear exactly like what Louis wore on Earth.

“Holy shit,” Louis says and shakes his head. “You lucky bastard.”

Ed smiles, “Well, it does have better coverage than what you’re wearing, but even though Resident clothing is extremely comfortable, I’d still rather wear your kit. You’d be surprised how good your footwork is when you’re practically naked.”

Louis finishes getting dressed, securing the elasticized green belt around his waist and then donning his socks, shin guards and cleats. All of the clothing Luciana picked out for him fit perfectly, and he can’t remember when he was ever so comfortable in a football uniform during the entire course of his life.

He slides the headband over his head and neck and then pulls it up, securing his fringe away from his forehead like he always used to when he played footie on Earth. After he’s got everything on and is ready to go, he walks over to one of the full-length mirrors that are mounted on the end of each row of lockers to survey his appearance.

“I look like a twink pool-boy at the Playboy mansion,” he says and Ed lets out a loud laugh behind him as he changes into his own gear.

“It’s true!” Louis exclaims. “I’ve never worn anything that leaves so very little to the imagination. I look like I’m about to be in a dirty chariot race in a 1970s porno film set in Pompeii. I’m like a Roman Dirk Diggler.”

He shakes his head for a moment as he checks himself out. The tupa portion of his garment is much more fitted than the standard version that he’s been wearing since his arrival in Judgment City. It’s a lighter material too and it clings to Louis’ body. The nice thing is that Louis always kept himself in good shape and so this weird, tiny hybrid tupa actually accentuates his form and hugs his curves in all the right places. In all, the uniform is actually pretty flattering, even though it’s positively ridiculous.

The fabric of Louis’ top stretches over his torso and upper body to reveal the strong outline of his muscles. His pecs and the six-pack of his abs are clearly defined and visible beneath the gauzy material, and the bright green belt makes his waist look tiny and shapely. Similarly, the cap sleeves of the garment show off his strong shoulder muscles and biceps, not to mention the fact that the cream color is a nice contrast to his lightly tanned skin.

As Louis suspected, the micro skirt of the tupa barely covers his arse. He turns to the side and sighs when he sees that the fabric kind of juts out over the swell of his bum, not unlike a maternity shirt hangs over the round belly of a pregnant woman. The tupa skirt doesn’t reach the bottom of his shorts in the back, but it’s a little longer in the front, extending to just below his crouch.

Louis next looks down at his legs. “Jesus, Ed,” Louis says. “With these shin guards and knee socks, I look like I’m wearing Roman boots. I should be in Egypt shagging Cleopatra right now.”

Ed laughs and stands up from the bench. “You look great, Louis. Don’t worry about it. Most of the people here are dressed exactly like you are and to be honest, not everyone can pull it off; the uniform actually looks really nice on you.” Ed smiles and adds, “Besides, I imagine your boyfriend wouldn’t mind this outfit too much. You should try to sneak it outta here when you leave tonight,” he teases.

Louis closes his eyes as a flush of pink spreads over his cheeks. “Listen, Ed, about that, I’m so, so sorry that happened. Harry and I kind of got carried away, but I promise you it won’t happen again.”

“Louis,” Ed says and he holds Louis by the shoulders and looks into his eyes, his voice sincere. “I promise you, it’s okay. I swear to you I barely saw anything and the only reason I spoke up was because I needed to get the lift moving again. You can trust me, mate, we’re totally good.”

Louis lets out a relieved sigh. “I really appreciate it, Ed… Just… Yeah, thanks, mate.”

Ed smiles, “I did, however, catch you and Harry waving and then you pulling a face at me when you two were in the lift this afternoon.” He gently punches Louis on the arm, “You’re a clever one, aren’t you?” and Louis laughs.

The two walk out of the locker room and Ed tells Louis he can skip the information booth since he’ll be playing on Ed’s team. Despite the fact that he’s wearing the most absurd-looking (yet ridiculously comfortable) football kit he’s ever donned during all his years of football, Louis’ is thrumming with excitement to get on the pitch and start playing.

They walk over to Pitch One, which is the pitch closest to the Recreation Center’s main entrance, and Louis can barely contain how thrilled he is to be back on fresh-cut turf. The pitch is spectacular, the ground is a lush green and Ed explains that it’s a combination of natural grass and the same Desso GrassMaster fibers used in some of the best football stadiums on Earth. On either side of the stands are rows of stadium-style bleachers and Louis is surprised by how many men and women fill the stands, some dressed in tupas, but most dressed in Residents attire.

“This is a really popular arena for the Residents,” Ed says. “A lot of people just like stopping by and taking in a match, since we don’t have professional sporting teams here. When we play our league games though, the stands are positively packed.”

“My concierge, Donald, plays on a league here,” Louis says. “He told me this place was a favorite of the locals.”

“Oh! Donald! He’s great! He’s on our team, plays striker. He really works hard on the field. What position do you play Louis? I’ll need to know so I can figure out our lineup.”

“Well, I always liked playing defender, center back, actually. But I’ve also played wing back quite a lot. Any position you want to put me in, I’ll play, Ed; I’m just so excited to get on the pitch.”

Louis and Ed walk onto the field and Louis’ senses are tingling. The turf crunches beneath his feet and he smells the familiar scent of fresh grass, dirt, and sweat, and he just takes it all in. He feels a rush of love as he remembers warming up with Liam and the other members of his team back on Earth. Even when facing their biggest rivals, Louis and his teammates would always start their pregame warm up laughing and telling jokes, even as they went over strategy and stretched their muscles. It was a ritual really: to start off their matches on a light note. Those times on the pitch getting ready for a match were some of the happiest moments of Louis’ life.

The sun is fully setting now beyond the hills in the west and the colors that are cast over the surrounding landscape and onto the pitch are breathtaking. The light posts that are positioned about the perimeter of the pitch are activated and the turf is illuminated in artificial light. Louis lets out a happy sigh; he always loved playing football at night.

Ed calls all of the men and women who are wearing green shorts and matching belts over and he quickly assigns positions to the individual players. Louis is assigned the left center back position, although Ed tells all of them they may switch things up a bit for the second half. It’s obvious that there is a meticulous organizational system in place because it takes only five or six minutes before everyone knows where on the field they’ll be and have also been introduced to one another.

The members of the opposing team gather on the opposite side of the pitch and most of them wear the modified tupa that Louis is wearing, while a few of their players are dressed in a regular kit like Ed. They all wear red shorts.

Ed tells the players on Louis’ team that they have fifteen minutes to warm up before match time and so they all begin doing stretches and jogging in place to loosen their muscles and get physically psyched for the match. Louis is balancing himself on his right leg, pulling on the ankle of his left foot with both hands to stretch his calve and thigh muscles when Ed walks over to him, a broad smile on his face. “Looks like you have a visitor, Louis” he says, and points over to the right side of the pitch where groups of spectators are making their way into the stands.

Louis looks back and forth over the crowd, “I don’t see any –” and then he cuts himself off, half-shouting, “Harry!” He’s about to run over to him and then he quickly stops himself and turns to Ed, “Um. Do you mind if I go and say hello, I know we’re doing warm-ups and all – ”

“Louis, of course! Go see him!”

“Well, do you want to come over with me? I’d like for him to meet you proper, you know, official and in person.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in just a minute. Go on!”

Louis runs across the field towards Harry and he’s almost forgotten what he is wearing until he’s only a few meters away and he notices Harry’s mouth drop. He barrels into him anyway and Harry pulls him into a tight hug, kissing Louis on the nose and forehead. Before Louis can even speak however, Harry is gripping Louis’ shoulder and pushing him back so he can get a good look at him. Harry looks Louis up and down, his eyebrows raised, his head shaking slightly in disbelief.

“I don’t know what you’re wearing, but I want to build a shrine to whoever designed it,” Harry says, and his voice is low and sounds like sex. “Actually, a shrine is not enough, I want to build them a temple, nay, a cathedral,” he adds dramatically.

Louis can’t help the blush from spreading across his cheeks and although he’s more than a bit embarrassed by the design of his football kit, the way that Harry is looking at him is making him feel downright sexy.

“I look ridiculous,” he says and rolls his head from side to side as if he’s utterly agitated, when that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“You look hot as fuck, Lou,” Harry answers and he’s looking at Louis like he wants to eat him alive. “Jesus, I just want to ravage you right now. Turn around.”

“What?”

“Pleeeeaaassse,” Harry whines, drawing out the word. “Don’t make me beg, Louis. For two full days I’ve been dying to see you out of that tupa and I’ve got to have a complete look at you.”

Louis turns around slowly, Harry's eyes trained on his body, and it feels like he and Harry are the only two people in the stadium when Louis comes full circle and their eyes once again meet.

Harry’s voice is reverent as he says, “God, Louis. You are the most gorgeous person I have ever seen in my entire existence. You’re so beautiful. You know that, right?”

Louis can feel the blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck and to his chest, he’s not used to such praise and it’s making him feel so self-conscious and also so completely desired that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“I look like a gay gladiator,” he responds, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Well then sign me up for the ring and throw me to the lions, please,” Harry answers. “Your thighs…” and then Harry pauses for a moment, his eyes locked on Louis’ strong, meaty legs before he licks his lips and continues. “Shit Louis, your thighs… and don’t even get me started on your arse. I knew it was perfect under that tupa. I just knew it. But your arse in those shorts…” Harry’s eyes go wide as he shakes his head and nibbles at his bottom lip. “Can you bring that uniform home with you? I don’t think that’s too much to ask. Just, shove it under your tupa and bring it back to the hotel.”

“Harry!” Louis laughs and nudges Harry’s shoulder.

“Seriously, Lou, I don’t know how I’m even supposed to function at that dinner party tonight now that I’ve seen you in this thing.”

“Oh, right!” Louis exclaims, suddenly snapped out of his reverie. “What are you even doing here, Harry? You’ve got a party to attend.”

“I know, but I just really wanted to see you again before I went, so I stopped by your hotel to wish you good luck and I met Donald. He’s really nice by the way, and he was kind enough to arrange a transport tram for me so I could come and see you and wish you luck in person. I’ve only got a few minutes, though.” Harry looks at his watch. “I’ve got six minutes left, to be exact.”

“Harry,” Louis says, his voice riddled with disbelief and awe. “You took a twenty-some minute tram ride to a football pitch in the middle of nowhere, and are taking a twenty-some minute tram ride back into the city, just so you could see me for a few minutes and wish me luck?”

Harry nods his head as his eyes rake over Louis’ torso and thighs, “Totally worth it, Louis. Totally worth it.”

Just then, Ed comes jogging over and before Louis is able to introduce him, he’s wrapping Harry in a friendly hug. Harry just smiles and hugs Ed back, mouthing ‘Who is this?’ over his shoulder to Louis.

Ed must sense Harry's confusion because he quickly says with a laugh, “Sorry mate!” “I’m Ed… You know, from the lift?”

Recognition dawns on Harry’s face and then suddenly he looks panicked. “Oh shit, Ed, we’re so sorry about this aft –”

“Don’t apologize and don’t worry about it. It’s nothing, right, Louis?” Ed turns to look at Louis, but Louis is busy staring at Harry like he is the Holy Grail. Ed clears his throat and Louis only partially snaps out of it.

“Oh, right!” he answers. “Ed and I are teammates today. Isn’t that great? I get to play with a friend.”

“That’s amazing, Lou,” Harry replies and he’s giving Louis the same helplessly fond stare that Louis is giving him in return. “I know you’re going to do so great. You both will,” he adds and then smiles sheepishly at Ed.

Ed looks back and forth between Louis and Harry and does that ‘onceover’ thing that first started with Beatrice and now seems to occur with every Resident they meet. Louis is starting to get used to being scrutinized by people who see him and Harry together.

“Bloody brilliant,” Ed mumbles and it’s clear that he’s talking to himself. He squints his eyes and nods his head, absentmindedly adding, “The real deal, that’s for sure.”

“What?” Louis asks him, breaking Ed’s concentration.

“Oh! Shit! Nothing. Don’t mind me. Listen Louis, take all the time you need and come out on the pitch when you’re ready. Ed looks at his watch. “Match starts in eight minutes.” He shakes Harry’s hand and then starts to jog backwards toward the pitch. “See you in the lift, Harry!” he says and waves, then turns and runs back toward the other players on the field.

Harry looks at his wristwatch. “Shit. I’ve only got three more minute myself if I’m going to make it back to the city in time for the party.” He takes both of Louis’ hands in his and pulls their arms outward and away from their bodies in a gentle swinging motion.

“Three more minutes of uninterrupted snogging,” Louis teases, singsonging the now familiar sentiment to Harry, but Harry suddenly freezes.

He drops Louis’ right arm and takes his left in both hands, turning it over so that Louis’ wrist is facing up. Harry’s eyes are wide and his mouth is opening and closing as if he’s trying to speak but can’t form words and the expression on Harry’s face causes Louis to instantly panic.

“W-what’s wrong, Harry?” he asks and his voice is shaky; he’s so afraid he has done something wrong.

At first Harry doesn’t answer, he just continues to stare at Louis arm and blink, but then he shifts his left hand so that it is cradling Louis’ forearm and with his right hand he gently drags his index finger along the tattoo that is inked on Louis’ skin.

“I can’t believe it, Louis. I-I just can’t believe it,” he says, and his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Can’t believe what, Harry? You’re, um… You’re kind of scaring me.”

Louis tries to make the last part sound like a joke, but he knows that his shaky high pitch is failing him miserably and he sounds more afraid than anything.

Harry runs three of his fingertips over Louis’ tattoo and then looks into Louis’ eyes and Louis is so nervous he can practically hear his heart pounding in his chest. Then Harry’s shocked expression relaxes and his mouth turns up into the softest smile. “Lou,” he says, his honeyed voice barely above a whisper. “You got the dagger.”

“What?” Louis responds and at first he is completely confused, has no idea what Harry is talking about. But then he looks down where Harry is tracing his fingers up and down his tattoo and the realization hits him.

“You got… you’ve got the dagger,” Harry repeats and he huffs out a soft laugh as if he’s in total disbelief.

“Oh!” Louis answers, relief flooding his voice. “You mean the tattoo. Yeah, that’s a funny story, actually; when I went into the shop I had a totally different design picked out, but I saw a picture of this dagger hanging on the wall and I absolutely had to have it. It was like I literally had no other choice. The funny thing is that this tattoo is not even the whole picture, it’s actually part of a couple’s tattoo, a ‘complimentary’ tattoo, as the artist called it. Well, I don’t know about that, but I’ve got a bunch of tattoos that came about the same way: went in for one thing, came out with something entirely different...”

Louis is rambling. He always rambles when he gets nervous and something about Harry’s reaction to his tattoo is making him very nervous indeed. Harry is looking back at Louis’ wrist again, gently shaking his head. He looks like he’s about to cry.

“Um. You don’t like it, Harry? I mean, I know you like tattoos because I can see the cross by your thumb and I’ve seen a bit of the one on your wrist, but I mean, I suppose daggers aren’t for everyone and I’m really sorry if it upset –”

“I love it, Louis,” Harry interrupts, and then his smile grows wider, spreading to his eyes, which sparkle, their corners crinkling happily. “I think it’s beautiful. It’s perfect. Everything is perfect, Louis, most of all you.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers and places his right hand over Harry’s and squeezes. Harry looks down at their joined arms and literally gasps.

“Holy hell, you’ve got the rope!” Harry practically shouts and he drops Louis’ left wrist and takes his right wrist in both hands. “And the compass! “You’ve got the bloody compass, Louis! This can't be real!”

Louis has never felt so confused in his entire life… or death.

“Harry, what’s going on?” Louis pleads, his voice frantic, “They’re just... They're just tattoos, Harry!”

Harry looks at him and raises an eyebrow and grins, as if he knows every little secret Louis is keeping. And honestly, they’re not _just_ tattoos; every drop of ink that has been injected into Louis’ skin means something to him and the tattoos Harry is fawning over are especially significant, because those are the tattoos that seemed to _choose_ Louis, rather than Louis choosing them. And the dagger tattoo… and the compass… The dagger and compass tattoos are two of Louis’ favorites because he always hoped that they would become something he could share with another person.

Harry turns Louis' wrist over and makes a noise that is almost a choked off squeal. “Oh my god, Louis, the arrow.” Suddenly, Harry is laughing and pulling Louis into his arms, “You’ve got the arrow, Lou,” he whispers in his ear and when he pulls back, Louis can see that Harry’s eyes are wet, that he’s trying not to cry.

“Haz, please,” Louis says, his voice soft and pleading. “You’ve got to tell me what’s going on.”

Just then, the alarm on Harry’s watch goes off, indicating he has to leave.

“Shit!”

“Bloody hell!”

Louis and Harry both shout simultaneously, Harry smacking his forehead in frustration.

“Jesus, Louis, I’d give anything to skip this party tonight and stay here with you! We need to talk. We have so many things to discuss and there is so much I need to tell you. So much I need to _show_ you actually and I’ve no idea how to get in touch with Sam to tell her I can’t make it.”

“It… it’s okay, Harry. You’ll come over after, yeah? Like we planned. We can talk then, okay?”

Louis tries to be rational because as much as he wants Harry to stay with him, and as a much as he wants to find out what it is about his tattoos that has Harry so riled up, he also doesn’t think Harry should miss the party. Sam is Harry’s advocate and it was a big deal for her to invite him to attend, especially since he’s a client.

“You can’t bail out on this party after you’ve accepted, Harry. I mean; I’m sure Sam is very understanding and all that, but she’s helping you with your Review and it would be rude not to show up.” He places his hand on Harry’s cheek, “It will only be a couple hours, love.”

Harry pulls Louis into a tight hug, literally lifting Louis a few inches off the ground and squeezing him until the air is punched out of Louis’ lungs before placing him gently back down.

“Okay, Louis, you’re right. It’s only a few hours. I can go to this party, I’ll get out of there as soon as I can and then I’ll head straight over to yours, okay?”

Louis nods his head, “Yeah, that’s perfect Harry. It will be okay, we’ll be able to talk in a few hours.” Louis brushes a curl from Harry’s cheek and tucks it behind his ear. “Now, listen to me, Harold. I want you to go this party and I want you to have an amazing time. Impress all those geniuses with your big brain,” he says and then winks. Harry leans in and kisses Louis tenderly on the lips and then his alarm sounds again.

“I set a second reminder,” Harry says sheepishly and shrugs his shoulders. “I knew I wouldn’t want to leave once I saw you.”

Louis bites his bottom lip so that his grin won’t split his face in two. “Okay, you better get out of here. You don’t want to be late.”

Harry pulls him in close for one last hug and then he leans in and his breath is warm on Louis’ ear as he whispers. “Good luck with your match. I wish I could stay and watch.” Louis feels Harry draw in a breath against his skin and Harry pulls away, looking Louis directly in the eyes. His smile is so open and warm as he adds, “I love you, Louis.”

Louis’ mouth falls open; he is completely dumbstruck and utterly unable to form words. Harry just grins and then turns to leave. He is already a dozen meters away, hurrying along the path that will take him out of the Recreation Center and to his awaiting tram and dinner party, when Louis finally finds his voice.

“Harry!” he shouts and he knows his voice sounds high pitched and panicked but he can’t just let Harry say those words and leave. Harry must hear him because he stops and turns around, looking back at Louis, a smile dancing on his lips.

“I love you, too!” Louis shouts and Harry smiles so huge it’s like he’s swallowed the sun. He places his hand over his heart and nods and Louis does the same. A horn sounds in the distance and Harry waves to Louis before turning around and running towards the exit.

Louis feels like his heart is going to explode. He’s never been more sure of anything in his entire existence than he is of his love for Harry, and he wants to shout it from the rooftops. He doesn’t even realize that half the spectators and players are staring at him until Ed starts a slow clap and the sound of hands slapping together begins to increase in speed and volume, the crescendo of clapping merging with cheers as Louis gets closer to the field. Louis shakes his head and laughs as Ed and all of these strangers who are his new teammates crowd around him and give him high-fives and clap him on his back, congratulating him on his great, romantic gesture.

Perhaps in another lifetime Louis would be embarrassed by all of the attention, would be mortified that dozens of strangers saw him declare his love for another man. But tonight, standing in the open air on a grassy pitch with his love written all over his face, Louis Tomlinson just feels happy.

 


	9. I Chose the Rose

After Harry leaves the Shepherdshire Recreation Center and Louis comes down from his declaration-of-love buzz, Louis plays the best footie match he’s ever played in any state of his existence.

During the first half of the match, Louis is assigned left center back and he manages a series of tackles, including an exquisite sliding block tackle that earns his team the ball, and in turn, a crucial point scored by Ed to tie up the match. For the second half, Louis’ position is switched to center forward and during the fourth quarter his footwork skills are put to good use as he assists in two goals. Best of all, in the last seven seconds of the match, when the game is tied 3-3, Louis finds himself in a perfect position when the ball is kicked in his general direction and he takes two quick strides across the pitch and pulls off a header, directing the ball into the net and sealing the win for his team.

The crowd in the stands go absolutely nuts and Ed runs over to Louis and picks him up, throwing him over his shoulder and carrying him across the pitch as the other players on their team crowd around him and pound on his back and give him high fives.

Ed twirls Louis around and then sets him on the ground and even when his feet touch the grassy turf beneath him, Louis still feels like he is floating on air. He was a very skilled football player on Earth: he was known for his footwork, speed, and agility. But tonight’s match was something to behold; Louis never played better and the feeling is so exhilarating he feels like he is on a high he won’t come down from anytime soon.

And to be honest, that high isn’t all about the footie. In fact, football is just a tiny aspect of the buzz Louis feels as he reflects on his game. Despite the emotional trauma of his Review, this day has turned out to be one of the happiest Louis’ has ever had, and really, while participating in a heart-stopping, fast-paced football match thrilled Louis to the bones, all of that is just a cherry on the cupcake when compared to the way he feels because of Harry. Louis spent a good portion of the day snogging the man of his dreams: a man who loves him and who he loves in return. Honestly, the kind of love he feels for Harry is all he ever wanted when he was alive on Earth, and Louis literally keeps pinching the skin on his wrist to make sure this is real.

 _And the day isn’t even over yet_ , Louis thinks to himself as he stands on the sidelines of the pitch, chugging a bottle of the most delicious sports drink he has ever tasted. Most of the players on his team are already in the showers and are then heading out for a few victory pints at a local pub in the small village of Shepherdshire, but Louis decides to pass, because really all he wants to do is shower and get back to his hotel so he can wait for Harry.

“I understand, mate,” Ed tells him when Louis apologetically declines his invitation. “Love comes first in the universe. That’s the way it should be.”

“He just… he just makes me so happy, you know?” Louis replies and Ed nods and smiles. He looks at Louis for a long moment as if considering something important and then tilts his head ever so slightly before placing his right hand on Louis’ shoulder.

“Listen, Louis. Unless we’re directly working on a specific case, we’re really not supposed to get involved with an Intake’s Review, and even then we _never_ discuss them outside the Review Room. The system is designed to work without outside interference.” Louis raises his eyebrows in question, not quite understanding what Ed is talking about.

Ed continues anyway, his expression growing serious. “I’ve been here a long time, Louis; in fact, I’ve been here long enough to know that you and Harry are the real deal. I also consider myself to be a good judge of character and I just want you to know that…” Ed looks around and lowers his voice to a whisper, leaning in to speak directly into Louis’ ear. “If anything should happen where you find yourself in a situation that you may need… _help_ … I want you to know that I’ll do everything I can in my power to give that help to you. I want you to know that I’m on your side.” He pulls away and then pats Louis’ shoulder and smiles. “I think you’re a good person, Louis.”

Louis doesn’t know how to respond. He’s not quite sure he understands what kind of situation he could get into here that would require Ed’s help, but then he remembers that Beatrice said something very similar to him when he and Harry ran into her in the park after the Elvis concert.

“Um… I don’t know what to say, but thank you, Ed,” Louis offers, and it’s obvious he’s still confused, but that doesn’t seem to bother Ed a bit, he provides no further explanation.

“No worries, mate!” Ed answers and then turns to head towards the changing room, before stopping and turning back to Louis. “You were bloody brilliant out there tonight, Louis. I hope we get to play again sometime.”

Louis offers Ed a sincere, but contained smile, because he’s so proud of how well he played but he is also bit humbled by the compliment. “Thanks so much, Ed. Really, it was so great to be back on the pitch and I had so much fun. I hope we play again, too.”

Ed waves goodbye, telling Louis he’ll see him tomorrow at the Review Center (even if Louis doesn’t see him), and then jogs off. Louis stands on the side of the pitch for a few moments, finishing his drink and just breathing in the crisp night air and reflecting on the day. Little by little, new players start to trickle out onto the field and begin warm up exercises. Louis notes that they are all wearing either blue or yellow shorts and they quickly form into teams, those in blue gathering on the far side of the pitch and those in yellow gathering on the side closest to Louis. It’s really incredible how well the Recreation Center, and actually everything on this side of death functions and Louis doesn’t even realize he’s speaking aloud when he says, “Everything is so _organized_ here.”

“Of course it is. There is more than enough stress on Earth; a person shouldn’t have to encounter that in the Afterlife. And what causes stress? Trying to organize time and people and every little aspect of a person’s existence. We don’t have that problem here, and that’s just another reason this place is so comfortable.”

Luciana.

Louis turns around and sure enough, Luciana is standing behind him with her arms crossed, her look playfully superior.

“Well, look who’s here to spread some more sunshine,” Louis chuckles. “Haven’t you got some poor bloke’s feet to mock somewhere?”

“Why would I want to go and mock a stranger’s feet when yours are right here and they are so tiny and delicate and demanding of my attention,” she teases. “But enough about your dainty toes. Tell me, how did you find your uniform?”

“I didn’t find it anywhere. You gave it to me. Or don’t you remember?”

Louis is really starting to like his banter with this woman.

Luciana rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically. “Very funny, Twinkle Toes, just tell me if you were comfortable out on the pitch.”

“Twinkle Toes!” Louis repeats. “The nerve!” he exclaims in faux disgust. He then lets out a sigh, pinching the collar of his tupa and relenting, answering honestly, “Actually, um…. You were right. This ridiculous, porn-star uniform is the most comfortable footie kit I’ve ever worn and I played better than I have since… Well, I played better than I ever have, actually.”

Luciana smiles triumphantly. “Louder for the people in back!” she cheers and then gives Louis the softest punch on his bicep. “So, listen,” she says, and her expression goes back to its neutral, uninterested state. “I came out on the pitch when I took my break and I saw you with your Mr. Lovebite, at least I assume it was Mr. Lovebite, unless you make ridiculous sappy faces with every man you meet.”

Louis bites his lip and smiles, “Yeah, that was Mr. Lovebite. Actually, his name is ‘Harry’, but I’ll be sure to tell him that he’s already earned himself a nickname from the Queen of Sass.”

“ _Queen of Sass_ ,” Luciana repeats, mulling it over. “I like that, tiny Louis” and now it’s Louis’ turn for a long-suffering sigh, rolling his head skyward for extra dramatic effect. “So anyway,” Luciana continues, unbothered, “I have to say, from the way Mr. Lovebite, _Harry_ , was looking at you, I thought he was going to swallow you whole and keep you in his belly forever. You two are a couple of smitten kittens, aren’t you?”

Louis holds up his thumb and index finger, scrunching his face as he pinches them together. “Just a little bit, yeah.”

“That’s nice,” Luciana says and her voice is sincere. “Listen, I have a little gift for you. Stop by the main building and see me before you leave and I’ll give it to you. But shower first, because you really stink.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?” Louis replies and Luciana winks and says nothing else before she turns and walks away.

Louis heads for the showers, tossing his empty beverage container in a recycle bin on his way into the changing room and then stopping at his locker to gather his clothes. The private shower facilities are spectacular, not only are they stocked with the most amazing smelling soaps, shampoos and body washes, but the shower boasts three, adjustable spray nozzles that simultaneously direct a powerful spray of water onto Louis’ head, back and legs. Best of all, the pounding spray massages the sore muscles Louis overworked during the match and by the time he finally turns the shower off, stepping out and wrapping a ridiculously plush towel around his waist, Louis feels clean, relaxed and ready to see Harry.

Louis towels off and dries his hair, but skips the styling products in favor of a soft fringe. After he is dressed in his standard-issue tupa, he walks over to the main building in order to pick up his gift from Luciana and to make sure a tram is arranged for his ride back to The Regency. He’s barely walked through the entrance when the curly-haired Brazilian greets him.

“Louis! It’s so wonderful of you to stop in. You don’t even stink of sweat anymore. I’m so honored,” she says, and Louis tries to suppress his smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” he answers, “I’m only here to collect my gift. What kind of wonder are you bestowing on me, Luciana? You know I have a tram to catch; I can’t keep Mr. Lovebite waiting.”

“Meet me at the counter,” Luciana instructs, and once again Louis finds himself obliging her demands. She walks behind the counter and then into the back room and when she emerges less than a minute later she is carrying a white paper bag in her hand. She approaches Louis and then starts to hand the bag to him before pulling it away. “Listen,” she says, and her tone is serious, “I have a good feeling about you and that lovesick puppy you call a boyfriend.” Louis’ eyes widen in surprise, but before he can interject, Luciana cuts him off. “I think he’ll thank me for this,” and she pushes the bag into Louis’ hands.

“What’s in here?” Louis asks, as he peeks into the bag. Whatever is inside is heavily wrapped in bright green tissue paper, so he can’t be certain of what it is.

“Just something for your boyfriend,” she answers, before adding, “If you’re heading back to The Regency, there is a tram arriving in two minutes. You better get out front if you don’t want to miss it.”

“Oh, thanks!” Louis answers. Luciana nods and then starts to walk into the back room but Louis stops her.

“Luciana!” he calls out, as she’s crossing the threshold into the room where the footie tupas and cleats are stored. “Thanks for your help today; you really are ace, love.”

A flicker of a smile passes over Luciana’s lips and she waves her hand in the air and then disappears from Louis’ view, calling out, “you now have one minute,” as she goes.

“Shit!” Louis exclaims and rushes out the front door of the building, his bag in tote. Sure enough, he hasn’t even reached the circular driveway in front of the main entrance before a small green tram is pulling up and parking. Louis and a few other passengers from the earlier trip climb aboard, but they are all so tired from their game that there is little conversation on the ride back to the hotel.

The trip back to Judgment City seems to take longer than the journey out to Shepherdshire did earlier in the evening and perhaps it’s because Louis is buzzing with anticipation over seeing Harry again. _Alone_. This will be their first time together where they aren’t in a public space and won’t have to worry about being interrupted by the chime of an elevator or the sound of someone taking a leak in a nearby toilet stall. Louis cannot wait.

When the tram is about halfway back to the city, Louis decides to see what exactly Luciana has given him and so he opens the gift bag, unwrapping the tissue paper and then barking out a loud laugh when he sees what’s inside. The other passengers on the bus eye him curiously and he shoves the gift back into the white paper tote, covering it with the tissue before anyone can see.

When Louis arrives back at his hotel, he goes straight to his room and after tucking the gift from Luciana on the top shelf of his cupboard, he checks the voicemail messages on his in-room telephone to see if he’s missed a call from Harry, but the only message is the one Harry had left the previous evening. Louis plays it three times.

The relaxation he felt after his shower is starting to give way to nervous energy as the anticipation of seeing Harry starts to build. So he pulls a beer from his mini-fridge and switches on the telly in an attempt to kill time. The beer is ice cold and ridiculously delicious, the perfect blend of barley and hops, the bubbles bursting on his tongue with each sip he takes.

Louis sits on the sofa and flips through the television channels and is surprised to find a mixture of programming that was clearly produced in some Afterlife film studio, while other channels feature programming from Earth. Louis watches an old episode of _Friends_ where Phoebe tries to convince Ross that Rachel is his lobster on the ‘Classic Earth Television Channel’, then, after briefly watching a few minutes of a soap opera where all the actors wear tupas, he lands on the ‘Retro Earth Movie Channel’ and is pleased to discover that _Grease_ is playing and it’s just at the part where Danny Zuko is lamenting that he is stranded at the drive-in.

The movie keeps Louis happily distracted until the closing bars of “We Go Together” and during that time he drinks another beer, orders up a ridiculously delicious snack plate from room service, and sings his heart out to John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John, all in attempts to keep his mind off Harry.

The thing is, it is starting to get late, _really late_ , actually, and Louis hates that he is beginning to worry that maybe Harry has stood him up. _But Harry wouldn’t stand me up._ Louis is sure that he wouldn’t, but it’s nearing half midnight and how late does a dinner party go till, anyway?

When the movie ends, Louis decides that maybe he should get ready for bed in case Harry has changed his mind about coming over, even though, in his gut he doesn’t believe Harry would do such a thing. It’s now nearing 1 AM and Louis is anxious and unsure. Maybe he said something wrong when he saw Harry earlier in the evening? Maybe Harry is so upset by Louis’ tattoos he doesn’t want to see him again? _But that can’t be right, can it?_

Louis brushes his teeth and strips out of his tupa, donning a fresh pair of pajama bottoms, all the while trying to deny the possibility that Harry blew him off.

The thing is, during his time on Earth; Louis didn’t always have the best of luck when it came to love. He spent the bulk of his romantic life with one person, Eleanor, who was the childhood sweetheart he dated throughout his formative years and ended up marrying even though he knew in his heart it was the wrong thing to do. In addition to his failed relationship with Eleanor, Louis wasn’t overly self-assured or very successful when it came to romance with men.

Louis’ mind briefly flickers on a gorgeous, black-haired artist and he can’t even believe he allowed himself to go there. The entire affair was a disaster from start to finish and Louis can hardly bear to even think about that one, the whole experience so painful and in the end, humiliating.

Then there was the handful of one-night stands he’d had with men he’d met out clubbing during that experimental period when he was trying to make up for all of the years he’d lost pretending to himself and everyone else around him that he was straight. The one-night stands didn’t make Louis feel fulfilled or happy though, in fact, they made him feel quite the opposite and he always woke up the morning after empty and tainted with regret.

 _And let’s not forget about Ethan_ , Louis thinks to himself as he starts to pace back and forth in front of his bureau. Ethan was the man he met at a Starbucks one morning when Louis had stopped in to grab a cup of tea before work. They had gone on four dates and Louis liked him a lot, could maybe even see a future with him. Ethan was good-looking, funny, and charming and it was the first time since his divorce that Louis started to believe that maybe he could find love again, and this time a love that he could be fully devoted to, both mind and body.

On their fifth date, Louis and Ethan planned to see _Fast and Furious 15: Racing to Destiny_ (Ethan’s choice), and they were going to meet up at the theater since it was halfway between both their flats. Louis was standing outside the cineplex waiting for Ethan and mentally making romantic plans to surprise him for Valentine’s Day, which was coming up in a week. He kept checking his watch though, because Ethan was nearly twenty-five minutes late and they were going to have to pick another film, which was actually fine by Louis because by the time a film franchise hits fifteen it’s really time to call it quits. He had no idea why Ethan insisted on seeing that film in the first place. Then Louis felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out, fully expecting an apology message from Ethan and some sort of explanation as to where he was, but that’s not what he got. Instead, when Ethan’s contact information popped up on the screen and Louis hit the message bubble, what he read was: _Sorry Louis. I’m not coming to the movie. This isn’t working for me. Best of luck. Ethan_.

Louis felt like he had been punched in the gut. The message hurt him deeply. He wasn’t the most confident when it came to men, especially because he’d spent so much of his life with one woman, and being simultaneously stood up and dumped via text message was a pretty low blow.

That was a year before Louis died and between that text from Ethan and his first and final drive in his new car, Louis had gone on exactly seven dates, four with men he had met online and three blind setups. A couple of dates were fun, a couple miserable, and one was just bizarre: his date getting up in a huff and storming out mid-cocktail when Louis declined his invitation of a threesome with the female bartender. At least “Angry Three-way” as he came to be known, provided Louis and Liam some good material to laugh about when sharing pints at the pub.

Seven dates in the last year of his life and not one of them led to a second. Louis was okay with that though, as none of the men were anyone he could picture himself with for anything long term and Louis was at a point in his life where he was ready for the real thing. He wanted the electric spark that happens when you meet someone you know you are supposed to be with. He wanted the giddy feeling that came with standing next that person you were simply mad over. He wanted passion and happiness and romantic gestures and most of all Louis wanted love.

And now, here he is on the other side of life and he has all of those things with Harry. But even though Louis didn’t doubt Harry when he told Louis that he loved him, and even though he believes in his heart he and Harry are meant to be together; those old insecurities and the failed romances he experienced on Earth are creeping in and he’s suddenly worried that he’s not good enough or that Harry will change his mind and no longer want him.

 _I’m being so silly_ , he thinks and tries to shake off his worry. It’s not fair to compare Harry to the heartaches and bad dates that came before him because even though this is all so new Louis doesn’t think he’s ever had more faith or held more trust in another person than he does in Harry. They’re soul mates. Louis knows it.

“Finish getting dressed, Tommo,” he says aloud and so he rifles through his bureau and finds a short sleeve pajama top. He’s just pulled it over his head and is feeding his arms through the sleeves when he hears a soft knock on his door. He instantly freezes.

The knocking sound is so quiet that Louis isn’t even sure he heard it correctly; maybe the noise is one of the new Intakes stumbling through the corridor in a state of pre-first-sleep semi-consciousness or maybe –

The knock sounds again and this time it’s a bit louder. “Lou, are you still up?” Harry whispers from the other side of the door and Louis releases a relieved breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. His heart begins to beat fast and hard in his chest, and he has no idea why he is so anxious, but he just is. He’s going to see Harry and they are going to be completely alone and Louis senses something major is about to happen, although he has no idea what that something could possibly be. All Louis knows for sure is that Harry is waiting on the other side of the door and they love each other and this is huge.

“Of course! Coming, love” he says as he hurries to the door, brushing his hand through his fringe and taking a deep breath to try to calm his nerves. He carefully turns the knob and pulls the door open and all of Louis’ anxiety melts in that instant and he feels a rush of love as he sees Harry standing there, his face bursting into a huge smile as soon as his eyes meet Louis’. He looks absolutely breathtaking.

Harry must have gone back to his hotel and showered before coming over because his hair is still damp and the ends are extra curly. He’s clean-shaven and smells like a mixture of honey soap and apple shampoo and he is wearing a freshly pressed tupa.

“Hi,” Harry says softly.

“Hi,” Louis echoes in return, and he feels a warm flush spread on his cheeks. Blushing is starting to feel routine when it comes to Harry. He reaches out his hand and tugs Harry into his room, shutting the door behind them.

Harry pulls his left arm from behind his back and in his hand he carries a bouquet of blue wildflowers, the same kind of flowers that bloom along the boulevard in front of Louis’ hotel.

“Um. These are for you. I’m sorry I’m so late. The party ran really long and I wanted to shower before I came over, so I went back to my hotel and I did that… shower that is,” he says and then giggles nervously. “And then, on my way over, I saw these flowers and honestly, I don’t know if we’re allowed to or not, but I picked them because the blue reminded me of your eyes and I just wanted to bring you something,” he says and then runs his hands through his hair doing his ‘fluff, swoop and tug’ routine that makes Louis’ heart feel like it’s going to burst.

“Harry, they’re lovely. Thank you,” Louis says as he takes the flowers from Harry’s hand and then holds them up to his nose to take a whiff, their delicate fragrance almost intoxicating. “I… I thought maybe you had changed your mind about coming over,” Louis says shyly.

Harry’s face drops. “No! Never! Oh, Lou, I’m so sorry! I should have called, I just wanted to be quick and – ”

Louis cuts him off with a kiss, Harry’s full lips moist and welcoming beneath his own. “Please don’t apologize, Harry,” Louis says when they pull apart, his voice earnest. “I think I just allowed myself to get carried away a bit.” He scrunches his shoulders, embarrassed, but he wants Harry to know everything about him and so he adds, “Don’t have the best track record, is all.”

Harry’s expression is kind and also colored with a hint of concern. “Well, I am sorry, Lou. I would never want to make you worry and I would never stand you up. Not in a million years,” he states emphatically. Harry takes Louis’ free hand and holds it between his own, his large hands completely engulfing Louis’ as Harry clasps it tenderly. “I love you. I meant it when I said that. I know it’s really soon, but I swear to you I meant it.”

“I love you too,” Louis answers and then he stands up tall on the balls of his feet and presses his lips against Harry’s. Harry’s mouth is so soft when Louis first brushes it with his lips, but then he is pulling away and pressing back in for a series of deeper, wet kisses that leave Louis panting for breath. Louis wraps the hand holding the flowers behind Harry’s back and pulls him in close and holds his free hand up to Harry’s cheek, gently cradling his face before sliding his fingers back and running them through Harry’s damp curls.

“We love each other,” Harry grins.

“We love each other,” Louis repeats, his own mouth curving into a smile, his heart full and warm in his chest.

Harry’s looks down between their bodies and his eyes rake over Louis. “You’re so gorgeous, Lou. I don’t think I’ll ever get over seeing you in regular clothing. I mean, you look amazing in a tupa, but I swear, when you’re wearing something where I can actually _see_ you… you’re so perfect.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere, Harold,” he teases and Harry squeezes Louis tight.

“Thank you for coming out to see me tonight, Harry,” Louis says as Harry starts to pepper kisses along his jaw. His large hands glide up Louis’ back and Louis feels completely encompassed and safe. “I can’t believe you took the tram all the way out to Shepherdshire, just to see me for a few minutes,” Louis whispers and then once again his mouth finds Harry’s and this time he flickers his tongue between Harry’s lips, Harry opening his mouth to invite him in. “Meant so much,” Louis adds, when their mouths finally separate.

“You were more than worth it, Lou,” Harry answers and then rests his forehead against Louis’ as they both take a moment to catch their breaths.

“Did you have a good time at the party, love?” Louis asks when he’s regained his composure. They’re still standing in the little hallway that leads into the main part of Louis’ hotel room; they haven’t even made it away from their spot in front of the closed door, too caught up in one another to even notice.

“It was really nice,” Harry answers quietly and then he kisses down Louis’ neck, his mouth landing in the shallow dip between the base of his neck and the sloping curve of his shoulder. Harry suckles on the spot and Louis’ entire body shivers in response. Harry’s mouth is gentle at first, and it feels so good that Louis can’t speak; he just tilts his head to the side to provide Harry easier access. Harry then clamps down, biting and licking at Louis’ golden skin, the sensation causing Louis’ eyes to fall shut and a quiet cry to escape his lips. There is a soft, slurping sound as Harry releases his mouth to add, “It was so hard to concentrate on what people were saying though, because all I could think about was you.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers, awed by the fact that Harry desires him as much as he desires Harry. He doesn’t want to move, wants to stay in that spot with Harry licking and biting his skin forever, but he also doesn’t want to stand in front of the door all night, there are far more comfortable spaces awaiting them. “Come on, let’s go into my room.” Louis steps back, taking Harry by the hand and leading him down the short hallway and into the combination bedroom/sitting area.

“This is really nice,” Harry says, without taking his eyes off Louis.

“Hazza,” Louis chuckles, “you haven’t even looked around. Are you sure you know what you’re talking about?" He places the flowers on his nightstand, dropping them into the glass of water he was drinking with his midnight snack.

“Don’t need to look to know that it’s perfect; you’re in this room, Louis. That’s all that matters to me.”

“I…I,” Louis starts, but before he can continue his sentence, Harry’s lips are once again on his, their mouths slotting effortlessly together. Harry runs his hands along Louis’ bare arms, sliding them up Louis’ wrists and then slipping his fingers under the short sleeves that hug Louis’ biceps. He pulls away and looks down at Louis’ body, lightly running his hands back down Louis’ exposed skin, his fingers leaving a trail of sparks in their wake and then he takes Louis’ hands in his own.

“All night long, I kept thinking about that dagger, Louis.” He leans over, pulling Louis’ forearm to his mouth, brushing a series of soft kisses along Louis’ dagger tattoo. The sweet press of Harry’s lips feels like little jolts of hot electricity that ignite desire in Louis’ veins, and the touch resonates in every part of his body. “And the rope,” he adds, and then he kisses the rope tattoo on Louis’ opposite wrist. “All of them, really,” Harry whispers, as he traces his finger over Louis’ compass tattoo. “I still can’t believe these are real, Lou,” and then he looks into Louis’ eyes, “I still can’t believe you’re real and we’re here together. It’s like a dream come true.”

“Harry,” Louis answers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I feel the same about being here with you, but… I… I just don’t understand what you’re talking about with my tattoos.”

Harry bites his lip and smiles. “I know you don’t, Louis,” he replies, “but you will soon.” He takes Louis’ hand and guides him over to the bed. “Maybe you should sit down while I show you.”

Louis has no idea what is happening, but he sits on the edge of the bed facing the sitting area, his hands gripping the mattress on either side of his body as he stares up at Harry, the anticipation causing his heart to quicken, his senses still thrumming with the tingling excitement brought on by Harry’s lips against his mouth and against his skin.

Harry takes a couple steps back so that Louis can view his entire body, but the room is cast in shadows, the only light emitted from the overhead in the hallway that serves as the small entranceway into Louis’ room. Harry leans over and turns on the bedside lamp.

“I want you to see me,” he says, and his deep voice is breathy with desire as he adds, “All of me.”

It’s no doubt the sexiest thing another person has ever said to Louis and he feels a rush of longing so intense that he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to sit there before pulling Harry onto the bed and kissing every inch of his body.

Harry reaches behind his back and unhooks his satin belt, tossing it on the sofa behind him, his eyes never straying from Louis’. He then kicks off his shoes so that he is standing barefoot on the plush carpet. Louis swallows thickly as he watches what Harry does next.

Harry moves his arms to his sides and then his hands grip on the fabric of his tupa skirt and he begins gathering the material in his fists, slowly pulling the skirt upwards to first reveal his ankles, and then his shins. Louis can barely breathe.

“You have tattoos on the front of your ankles,” he whispers. “So do I.”

Harry stops moving for a moment and then replies, “Do you know the song ‘Careless Whisper’ from the 80’s? The group Wham!, George Michael was the lead singer? These are lyrics from that song.”

Louis nods his head and Harry continues pulling his garment slowly upwards and all Louis can do is stare as Harry’s long, muscular legs are exposed. They are positively gorgeous.

When Harry has pulled his garment up to his knees, Louis’ breathing starts to get heavier. Harry’s body is revealed to him slowly; Harry is taking his time raising his tupa and Louis is completely mesmerized by the strong muscles of Harry’s calves, the perfect curve of his knees and the soft hair that covers his legs. When Harry lifts the tupa above his knees and Louis gets a glimpse of Harry’s toned and muscular thighs, he starts to feel lightheaded, because Harry’s body is more stunning than Louis even imagined.

“Your legs… Harry, they’re so beautiful,” Louis whispers and he slowly drags his eyes up Harry’s strong thighs and over his torso where the tupa is starting to become bunched and gathered around his waist, to Harry’s eyes, which glisten in the soft lamplight.

“My legs don’t hold a candle to yours, Lou,” Harry answers, his voice rough. “I swear, when I saw you in that kit tonight I thought I was going to lose my mind. All I could think about was you taking me apart right there on that pitch.”

Louis closes his eyes for a moment because the thought of pressing into Harry on the dewy grass of football pitch is like something from a dream. “God, Harry, I want that,” he whispers and he opens his eyes to once again meet Harry’s, which are dark and lust-blown.

Harry once again begins lifting up his tupa to expose more flesh. He still doesn’t rush, the reveal of his form teasingly slow, and Louis’ hands move to the edge of the bed so that he is gripping the mattress, his knuckles white as he tries to resist jumping up and ripping the tupa off Harry’s body.

Harry continues pulling the long skirt of his tupa upwards when Louis notices the tattoo inked into the skin of Harry’s upper left thigh, but he can’t quite make out the tattoo design.

“Is that a ball of twine?” he asks, and Harry relaxes his arms, but maintains his grip on the material of his garment, the skirt of his tupa falling an inch or two and covering the bulk of the tattoo.

“It’s a tiger,” he states emphatically and bites his bottom lip, trying to suppress a grin. “Niall gave me so much shit for this tattoo,” he says and shakes his head. “Told me it looked like a human brain.”

Louis grins. “Come on, then. Lift up your tupa, so I can see it again, love. I didn’t get a proper look before you hid it away beneath all that fabric.”

“Okay,” Harry answers and he once again begins pulling the skirt of his tupa upward. “But, don’t make fun,” he reprimands and raises his eyebrow playfully.

Louis leans forward and squints his eyes, then realizes that he doesn’t need to squint, that he now has perfect vision and so he relaxes, fully taking in the design of the tattoo. He lifts his hands and makes two kitten paws. “Roar,” he teases, and bats his paws in Harry’s direction. Harry just shakes his head and grins.

“Are you quite finished?” Harry asks, and Louis nods and smiles.

“Cross my heart,” Louis answers. “God, I want to kiss you so badly right now,” he adds.

“Well, let me get this thing off first, okay?”

“Yes. Please. Get that thing off, Harold. I’m dying over here.”

“You’re already dead, Louis,” Harry giggles and Louis nods in agreement.

Harry pulls the tupa just a little bit higher, revealing the short boxer briefs he is wearing and Louis’ eyes widen at the way they hug Harry’s thighs, but more so at the way the outline of Harry’s cock is straining against the fabric of his pants. It looks huge and thick and it makes Louis’ mouth water.

“Harry,” Louis says and his voice sounds husky, suddenly serious. “I just… Jesus, Harry.”

When Harry has lifted the tupa to the waistband of his pants, he crosses his arms to pull the garment up and over his head, and all Louis can think is, _Thank fuck_ , because he really doesn’t think he can wait any longer to see Harry undressed.

But then, Louis catches sight of the strong V-lines that define Harry’s lower abdomen on the inside of his hipbones and Louis is so mesmerized by the muscles and flesh and bones it’s like everything moves in slow motion. The chiseled outline of muscles taper inwards and down, dipping into Harry’s fitted briefs at an angle. The V-lines are accentuated on either hip by elegant laurel leaves that unfurl across his skin toward the center of his belly. Harry’s hips and the laurel tattoos imprinted upon them are exquisite and Louis can’t help but imagine what they would look like pressed up against his own hips, how Harry’s muscles would tighten and quake as he entered him slowly. _Jesus, Tommo_.

There is a soft trail of hair that runs from the center of Harry’s groin, peeking out of the waistband of his pants and leading up to his naval; it’s the hottest thing Louis has ever seen. He wants to drag his tongue along that line of tufted hair and suck and bite at Harry’s strong tummy muscles until Harry is panting and begging beneath him. God, he just wants _so much_ with Harry.

Just then, Harry raises the tupa up so that his ribs and torso are revealed and Louis draws in a deep breath because he cannot believe what he is seeing. His eyes go wide and he just stares, trying to form words but utterly failing, because _this cannot be real_.

“Oh my God, Harry,” he finally utters after what seems like an eternity, his voice trembling with shock. “The butterfly. Y-you have the butterfly,” he says and he taps his foot on the floor.

At first Harry looks taken aback, but then he just shakes his head and his lips turn up into the softest smile. Louis stares at the butterfly tattoo inked on the center of Harry’s chest and then everything just… _clicks_.

Louis jumps up from the bed, unable to stay seated a second longer. “Do you… do you have the rose?” he asks pointing at the dagger tattoo on his own arm, and he’s sure he already knows the answer to the question.

Harry’s smile grows wider and he is looking at Louis like they’ve just discovered the key to the universe. Instead of replying, he simply pulls his tupa the rest of the way up and over his head, tossing it behind him where it lands on the corner of the sofa and then falls to the floor.

For a minute, Louis says nothing. His eyes race up and down Harry’s body and really, it’s just so much to take in, his own body buzzing with the aftershock of seeing Harry’s butterfly tattoo: a tattoo that is the other half of the tattoo Louis has inked over his own collarbones. _And Harry’s body_ … Louis just stares and tries to take it all in, his emotions ricocheting back and forth and back again between admiration and astonishment and lust.

Harry’s shoulders are broad and well defined and his chest is exquisite, his nipples are round and puffy and the loveliest shade of pinkish brown. His torso is all muscles and planes and shadows that lead into a narrow waist and the longest, most beautiful legs Louis has ever seen. Louis thinks Harry looks like a marble statue that has stepped off a pedestal in an art museum and walked into Louis’ world just to steal his gravity: he is just _that_ perfect.

And then, after studying Harry’s form for what seems like ages but in reality is only a minute or so, Louis starts to take in all the ink that is painted into Harry’s skin.

Some of Harry’s tattoos are beautiful, others quirky and endearing, and some seem to make no sense at all, much like the tattoos imprinted on Louis’ own skin. On Harry’s collarbones are two birds, they look to be sparrows, but they almost remind Louis of lovebirds by the way they are directed toward each other and how sweet their expressions are. There are initials on either of Harry’s shoulders, Louis guessing the letter ‘G’ is for Harry’s sister, Gemma and the ‘A’ for his mum, Anne. There are phrases and images smattered on Harry’s skin that Louis doesn’t quite understand, but he is sure Harry will explain to him in time.

But it’s the butterfly tattoo that Louis keeps returning too. He’s barely glanced at Harry’s strong, muscular arms, too busy staring at the beautiful outstretched wings and delicate body of the insect that is rendered on the center of Harry’s chest.

“I just need to touch you,” Louis whispers and then he places his hands side by side in the center of the tattoo and then spreads out his fingers to mimic the shape of the butterfly’s wings. He’s so overwhelmed by the tattoo that he suddenly needs to show Harry what is inked on his own collarbones. “Harry, look,” he says and steps back, pulling his shirt up and over his head and tossing it to the floor so that his upper body is naked and revealed.

Harry eyes open wide and he takes a minute to study Louis the way Louis studied him, his eyes tracing over Louis’ strong shoulders, defined chest and small waist. He gently places one hand on Louis’ shoulder and the other on his hip, just above the waistband of his pajama bottoms, and the way it feels to have Harry’s hands on his bare skin is almost indescribable.

“I knew it,” Harry says and his voice is calm, but assured. “I knew from your reaction you must have the other half.” He traces his fingers along the words inscribed along Louis’ collarbone. “It is what it is,” he recites and he leans forward and presses a kiss to the center of Louis’ tattoo before pulling back to look Louis in the eyes. “You told me earlier, some of your tattoos were not what you’d originally planned, yeah?”

Louis nods his head rapidly; he feels the need to know everything about Harry’s and his complimentary tattoos _right now_. “Yeah, it happened quite a few times, actually.”

“Well, the same thing happened to me… on more than one occasion.”

Harry holds up his left forearm and even though he was almost expecting it, Louis gasps when he sees the rose blooming on Harry’s skin.

“This rose,” Harry says, looking Louis straight in the eyes, “was intended to be a treasure map.”

“A treasure map?” Louis asks, his eyes wide.

“Well, I have a lot of nautical tattoos and it seemed fitting.”

Louis looks down and bites his bottom lip and he feels warm and happy all over. “Nautical tattoos, you say? I have some of those too.”

“I know. I saw some of them when you were standing in front of me in that ridiculously sexy uniform earlier.” Harry takes a step closer, his hand tightening around Louis’ waist and pulling him in so that their hips bump against each other. They still have material between them, Harry’s pants and Louis’ pajama bottoms, but nonetheless, what they wear now is light and thin and the sensation Louis’ feels when their bodies make contact is _so_ much better without all of the fabric of the tupas getting in the way.

Louis leans his forehead against Harry’s chest, kissing his warm skin. “So, um, you were saying you were going to get a treasure map then?”

“I was.” Harry says and his voice is rich and gravelly. He moves his hand up from Louis’ hip and slides it around his side and over his back, resting it just above the swell of Louis’ arse. “So, when I got to the tattoo shop, I brought my treasure map design with me.” He spreads his fingers and the tips glide below the waistband of Louis’ pants, pressing into the soft flesh of his bum, Louis’ hips pressing forward, his body responding on its own. Harry slides his free hand over Louis’ chest, squeezing his pec and then rubbing his thumb over Louis’ nipple. Louis’ breathing quickens in response and he rolls his head from side to side, momentarily caught up in the feeling of Harry’s hands touching him in two of his most sensitive spots.

“So… so, I already had the template of the treasure map tattoo transferred to my arm,” Harry says shakily and he's obviously turned on as much as Louis is, “and I was sitting in the chair and Mark, the artist, was laying out the ink and getting ready to get started when I looked up and I saw this drawing of a rose and dagger pinned to the wall.”

Louis pulls back and looks at Harry, because even though Harry’s hands feel amazing on his body, and even though he wants nothing more for those hands to go further, to touch him slow and touch him deep, he needs to hear the rest of Harry’s story.

“What did you do?” Louis whispers.

“I jumped out of the chair and tore the drawing off the wall. Mark thought I was bloody crazy, but I just… I don’t know, Louis, I absolutely _had_ to have this tattoo. So, I told Mark I changed my mind and he sent me to the sink to wash the transfer off my arm and when I came back to the chair, he had made a new transfer of the rose and dagger together, but I knew that I was only supposed to get part of the tattoo, so I asked him to make two drawings, one of the rose and one of the dagger.”

Louis nods his head because he knows exactly what Harry means.

“It sounds so crazy, Lou, but I decided I would get one tattoo on my skin and save the other...” he says, and his voice tapers off.

“So you chose the rose.”

“I chose the rose,” Harry repeats and then leans in and kisses Louis full on the lips. “I got the rose tattoo, but I took the drawing of the dagger home with me, tucked it in a favorite book of poetry and kept it. I don’t know, I thought it was something I would share with a person that I loved, if that makes sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, Harry,” Louis says and then he remembers what Harry had told him earlier in the day when they were in the park together. Louis looks down shyly and then forces himself to meet Harry’s eyes. “Um… You had a partner, Harry. Did you share the dagger tattoo with them?”

Harry smiles in understanding. He stretches his fingers and lightly squeezes Louis’ bum and Louis tries to ignore how good it feels so he can concentrate on what Harry is telling him.

“I got the tattoo before I met them, Lou, but I didn’t share it, no. That probably should have been a big, red flag. I had a tattoo on my body, several actually, that I fantasized about sharing with another person and then I met a person, moved in with that person and spent four years of my life _with that same person_ , and never once did I mention that they should consider getting a complimentary tattoo with me, least of all the dagger.”

Louis can’t help the relief that washes over him. He's not sure how he and Harry have two complimentary tattoos (and maybe more given Harry’s enthusiasm over some of Louis’ other ink), and yet they never met on Earth. But the one thing he _is_ sure of is that he doesn’t want Harry to have shared those tattoos with anyone else.

Louis takes Harry’s arm and runs his fingers gently over the rose tattoo. He then holds his arm next to Harry’s so that the dagger and the rose are side by side but face in opposite directions. “These are special,” he says.

Harry nods and replies, “Yes, they are. You’re the only person I share this with, Louis. The only person I _want_ to share this with.”

Louis looks up at Harry and licks his lips, trying to contain his smile as he starts to speak. He points to the tattoo on his left forearm. “This dagger was intended to be Triton, the demigod of the sea.”

“Wait… Triton? Like in the _Little Mermaid_?” Harry asks, excitement in his voice.

Louis chuckles. “Well, not exactly _that_ Triton; I wasn’t planning on getting the Disney cartoon, it was more of a classical representation of Poseidon’s son. He was a merman.”

“I see,” Harry says, and then he turns his arm slightly revealing the full body of a mermaid tattoo that is inked below the rose. “I think we were on the same page, even when we weren’t.”

“Bloody hell,” Louis replies, his voice astonished. He’d been so preoccupied by the butterfly and the rose tattoos that he hadn’t even noticed the mermaid, but now that he does see it, he’s not quite sure how he ever missed it.

“You were saying,” Harry encourages and Louis can’t help but smile up at him, because this moment is so surreal and wonderful. It’s like his life and death is a book and this moment right now is taking place in the most important chapter: the chapter where he discovers what everything means, what he lived and died for. And Louis suddenly realizes that what he lived and died for was love.

“I love you,” Louis says, because he can. He feels happiness bubble into his throat and spill out in an airy laugh and before Harry can tell him that he loves him back, he continues speaking, because he doesn’t even need to hear Harry say it again, he feels those three words in every part of his body.

“I had my Triton design with me,” he continues, his voice light, “and I was waiting for my appointment, just leafing through some design books and then I saw it: the rose and dagger tattoo.”

Harry nods his head and it’s like he can’t help himself when he presses a kiss to Louis’ cheek and whispers, “I love you too, Lou.” Louis smiles up at him and he can feel his eyes crinkle as he gives in fully to the feeling, utterly content. _This is real._

“I had to have it, Harry,” Louis continues. “I kind of freaked out a little bit because I’d planned that Triton tattoo for such a long time and I had researched forever before I found the right image, but I knew I couldn’t get it; I knew I had to have the rose and dagger, but just like you, I knew I should only have part of the design.”

“You chose the dagger,” Harry says and brushes his thumb along the blade of Louis’ dagger tattoo.

“I chose the dagger.”

Louis realizes that he and Harry might be talking about their tattoos all night. It’s so incredible that they have this connection and his mind keeps flashing on what Marcus had said to him, how Harry was his soul mate. He wants to keep talking to Harry, wants to know every little thing about every drop of ink that is tattooed on Harry’s body, but he also wants so much more. He pulls both of Harry’s hands into his own and then takes a step backward toward the bed, pulling Harry along with him. The bed is freshly made, the corner of the duvet pulled down and the familiar box of chocolates resting on Louis’ pillow. Louis picks up the chocolates and sets them on the nightstand and then reaches out to the covers, pulling them all the way back.

He turns around to face Harry and climbs atop the bed and sits on his knees. “I want to know everything,” Louis says and for a second he is lost as to how to convey exactly what he wants, but really, in the end, it’s very simple. “Spend the night with me?”

The corners of Harry’s mouth turn up slightly, but his bottom lip is quivering and Louis knows he is trying to play it cool and suppress a grin. He fails miserably and the next thing Louis knows, Harry is nodding his head and his face has burst into the most beautiful smile, he’s all dimples and shiny teeth and bright green eyes and happiness.

Harry takes another step toward the bed and then wraps his arms around Louis’ upright body. Louis scoots back and Harry places one knee on the mattress and then he’s gently laying Louis out, carefully pushing him back against the cool sheets so that his head rests on the far pillow and his legs are stretched out before him. Harry lies down on his side next to Louis so that he’s resting on his hip, his upper body propped on one elbow, hovering over Louis. He runs his fingertips down Louis’ chest. “I want to spend tonight with you, and I want to spend forever with you, Louis,” and Louis can do nothing but stare up at him because once again, Harry has rendered him at a loss for words.

Harry reaches back and switches the bedside lamp to the lowest setting, the light soft, but not overbearing. “Tell me about the arrow,” he whispers and it’s just then that Louis notices the heart tattoo on the inside of Harry’s bicep, just above the crook in the elbow he is leaning on. Louis’ mouth drops open and his eyes grow wide because this cannot just be a coincidence _._

 _Three. We have three complimentary tattoos_ , Louis thinks, but then realizes that there may be even more. He’s completely stunned that they share this, that in another lifetime they each got one half of these corresponding designs tattooed onto their skin and that they both wore these tattoos hoping that they would meet someone to share them with, and it actually happened. Not when or how either of them expected, but Louis is sure it happened exactly how it was supposed to.

 _This is destiny_ , Louis thinks and he is about to say just that, but before he opens his mouth to speak, Harry leans over and begins kissing along Louis’ collarbones, his right hand gripping Louis’ hip and squeezing.

“Um… I…” Louis answers, his mind blank because it’s really hard to concentrate when Harry is touching him like that. Harry moves his hand over Louis’ hip and across the small swell of tummy to his opposite thigh. He slides his hand between Louis’ legs and runs it up his inner thigh and Louis’ legs fall open in invitation.

Harry’s moves are smooth, he keeps kissing and nipping along Louis’ chest and moving his hand, stretching his fingers and running them back and forth but always stopping short of Louis’ hardening cock.

“Keep talking,” Harry whispers and then he licks over Louis’ right nipple before clamping down and sucking. Louis’ back momentarily arches off the bed, but Harry lifts his hand from Louis’ thigh and places it on Louis’ hip, pressing him back down onto the mattress. He slides his hand up Louis’ body and ever so gently begins to rub his index finger over Louis’ other nipple as he returns to the task of sucking the right. Louis feels electric, like the wet pressure from Harry’s lips and the gentle kneading of his fingers are filling Louis with energy that is shooting straight down his body and pulsating in the throbbing member between his legs. Harry works over Louis’ hard bud in a series of kitten licks and then bites down teasingly, pulling the nub with his teeth and stretching it before letting go and again suckling the tingling skin.

Louis whines loudly and twists his torso, unable to hold still. His nipples are one of the most sensitive spots on his body and he has a fleeting thought that before this moment, only one other person in his whole sexual history ever gave them their proper due, but thinking about that person is the last thing he wants to do right now and besides, Harry’s mouth and touch is more amazing than anything he ever felt with _anyone_ when he was alive. He wonders if it’s possible that his nipples can be as hard as his cock because that’s rock hard and practically pulsing now and oh –! Harry twists Louis’ nipple between his thumb and index finger while blowing a cool breath on the other and all thoughts momentarily flee Louis’ brain; he is completely lost in exquisite pleasure.

“Tell me,” Harry insists, his deep voice hoarse with desire. “The arrow, Lou.” He climbs over Louis then, slotting his body between Louis’ legs so that he is lying over Louis’ chest. He then switches the position of his mouth and fingers, taking Louis’ left nipple into his mouth and pinching Louis’ spit-slick right nipple between his index finger and thumb. Louis thinks he may just come from this alone.

“I went into the tattoo shop to get… to get…” and he’s not sure how he is going to finish this sentence because Harry’s mouth and fingers on his nipples are sending jolts of current throughout his body and Harry’s abdomen is pressing against his cock and Louis’ needs the friction so badly that he just wants to rub up against Harry like a horny teenager. Harry bites down on his nipple and Louis’ hips thrust upwards involuntarily. “I went in to get an eagle!” he blurts out and Harry freezes. He pulls off Louis’ nipple and Louis could cry at the loss of sensation.

“Jesus, Lou,” Harry croaks, his voice shocked, “I have an eagle.”

Louis’ eyes go wide. “Oh my god… Baby,” is all that he can manage and then Harry is pushing himself up Louis’ body and clamping his mouth over Louis’ and thrusting his tongue inside. The kiss is wet and sloppy, all biting lips and clashing teeth, Louis running his fingers through Harry’s hair and Harry holding Louis’ face in his large, warm hands. It’s absolutely everything.

“My heart tattoo was supposed to be an eagle, too,” Harry murmurs between kisses. He rubs his thumbs over Louis’ cheeks, both of them panting heavily. Harry presses his hips into Louis’ and they both gasp as their clothed cocks rub together, Louis’ hips thrusting upwards to chase the maddening friction. “Eventually, I got the eagle on the other arm. But that day,” Harry says as he grinds down again, Louis moaning in response. “That day, I saw the heart and arrow and it reminded me that real love was possible.”

“Same,” Louis says, nodding his head and gritting his teeth. His breathing is heavy and he feels overwhelmed with need. His dick is wet with precome and the way that Harry is rutting against him he doesn’t think he will be able to last very long. “I got the tattoo right after my divorce,” Louis’ adds, his voice broken and winded. “The eagle was supposed to represent freedom, but then I saw that heart and arrow tattoo and I realized… I realized I never wanted to be free of what marriage stood for; I just wanted to be in love… real love. Fuck, Harry!” Louis practically shouts as Harry rolls his hips in a downward circle, the pressure so delicious and still not quite enough.

“Real love,” Harry repeats and kisses Louis on the mouth. This kiss is different than the previous kiss, it’s just as passionate, but it’s gentle and slow and Louis thinks he could spend forever kissing Harry like this.

It’s then that Harry does it; he pushes up on one arm and sits on his knees between Louis’ spread legs. He rubs his hand over Louis’ pajama bottoms, grasping Louis’ hard cock, still cloaked in fabric, and gives it a light squeeze. Louis lifts his hips off the mattress at the touch and chases the feeling, a desperate whimper escaping his throat. Harry places his hands on Louis’ waistband, but before he does anything else, he looks Louis in the eyes for approval. “Can I, Lou?” he asks, and his voice is so sweet and respectful that Louis would probably cry if he wasn’t so hard he’s afraid his dick might split in two.

“God, yes. Please,” Louis pants and Harry licks his lips. He pulls Louis’ waistband down and Louis lifts up his hips so Harry can slide the pajama bottoms over his bum and once they pass his waist his cock slaps against his belly as Harry deftly pulls them off in one slick move, tossing the pants over the side of the bed and onto the floor below.

Harry takes a moment before he makes another move, his eyes flitting back and forth between Louis’ erect penis, which is curved and resting against his tummy, its head leaking a few droplets of precome onto the tuft of hair above Louis’ navel, and Louis’ blue eyes that stare at Harry as if he rules the universe, which for Louis in this moment, he actually does. Harry’s expression is almost confused, as if he doesn’t know where to look, but soon enough, his eyes settle on Louis’ dick.

“Jesus, Louis,” he gasps, and he’s looking at Louis’ hard cock like it’s every Christmas gift he ever wanted. “You’re so thick. So fucking perfect,” he says and his voice is full of awe. Louis doesn’t have a chance to respond though, because the next thing he knows, Harry has gripped Louis’ shaft in one hand and is leaning over, lathing his tongue up the vein that runs along its underside and then pressing his tongue firmly against the V-spot below his head. It’s so intense Louis thinks he may pass out. Instead, he spreads out his arms and stretches his fingers, his hands gripping the sheets.

Harry slides his free hand under Louis’ bum and begins to knead his flesh. He pulls Louis’ cock to his mouth with the other and then glides his tongue along Louis’ slit. As he leans over to lick up the precome his long curls brush over Louis’ groin and the top of his thighs causing a tickling sensation that only intensifies the pleasure created by his mouth.

Louis is letting out breathy little whimpers and trying to keep his hips steady because Harry is working him over so slowly and the desire for more friction is so intense that Louis feels almost out of control, like at any moment he is just going to start thrusting upwards and fuck Harry’s mouth. Harry must sense that Louis needs more because in one quick motion he slides his lips over Louis’ head and takes him all the way down, Harry’s nose pressing into the soft hair on Louis’ belly and Louis’ dick nudging the back of Harry’s throat.

Harry makes a gagging noise and Louis tries to pull back, not wanting to hurt him, but Harry just grips Louis’ hips with both hands, holding him in place.

“H-Harry,” Louis stutters, his voice nothing more than a whimper. He lets go of the sheets and slides his arms toward his body and then tangles his hands in Harry’s hair, grazing his fingertips along Harry’s scalp. Harry hums in appreciation, the vibrations sending jolts of current straight through Louis’ dick.

Louis raises his torso and lifts his head, supporting his upper body by his elbows and strong abdominal muscles. He just needs to see Harry’s lips wrapped around him, needs to watch as Harry takes him down slow and then pulls back up again, his mouth engulfing Louis’ length in hot, wet, pressure. Harry stares right back at Louis through hooded eyes. He moves his hand across Louis’ arse cheek and slides his fingers between Louis’ crack, his fingertips grazing slowly over Louis’ rim. Louis’ head falls back and he lets out a squeaky cry at the touch, but Harry continues his ministrations, his middle finger slowly gliding up and down over Louis’ sensitive taint as he pulls his mouth upwards and suckles at Louis’ head.

It’s all so intense and the things that Harry is doing with his lips and tongue and fingers feels like nothing Louis has ever experienced before. It’s like Harry is simultaneously controlled and breathtakingly wild: holding back when Louis is close to the edge and then ravenously devouring him when Louis relaxes. One moment he eases his mouth and gently teases Louis’ head with light flickers of his tongue and the next he is sucking Louis down and consuming him like he’s starving and Louis’ dick is the first meal he’s had in weeks. The pull of Harry’s mouth around his cock combined with the push of his fingers against his rim and taint is just so much and Louis’ legs start to shake and he pushes his heels into the mattress to try to gain his bearings.

Harry strokes his fingers upwards and cups Louis’ balls, running his thumb gently back and forth across the delicate skin as he takes Louis down deep, his cock once again hitting the back of Harry’s throat and he makes a muffled choking sound. He pulls back for only a second before sliding his mouth back down, once again practically swallowing Louis’ shaft. And that’s when the feeling hits Louis so suddenly that he almost doesn’t have time to warn Harry. Louis feels a rush of heat in his belly and the muscles of his groin tingle and tighten as he feels the familiar pull deep within, his cock getting impossibly harder.

“Harry, I… I’m so close,” Louis warns, his voice weak, his brain fuzzy. It’s like his energy has left his head and limbs and is being redirected to his dick where it threatens to explode at any moment. The feeling is so powerful that it zaps Louis’ strength and he can no longer support himself and he drops his elbows, falling back against the mattress. He raises his head to look at Harry and Harry is still staring at him, his pupils blown and a look on his face as if he absolutely wants to devour Louis whole.

“Babe... I’m… I’m gonna come,” Louis whispers, trying to give Harry fair warning, but Harry just doubles down his efforts. Instead of pulling off of Louis and finishing him with his hand, he grips onto Louis’ hips and bobs his head even harder and faster, his lips mercilessly tight around Louis’ cock, his tongue dancing along his length with every upward and downward movement. He’s so dedicated and his mouth is so perfect that Louis is silently cursing himself for not being able to hold out longer, _but it just feels so fucking good_.

Louis can’t control himself and his hips stutter upward and Harry just takes it, embraces it, really. He squeezes Louis’ arse cheeks and pulls Louis’ hips towards his face as he swallows him back down and that’s all it takes; Louis rolls his head from side to side against his pillow and comes, the sweet pull of release overtaking him, exploding sparks of pleasure thrumming through his entire body as he shoots warm streams down the back of Harry’s throat, Harry swallowing around it greedily.

Harry continues to work Louis: sucking on his cock until he is completely spent and every last drop has been juiced out of him. Louis’ body quivers and buzzes as he comes down and it’s only when his dick is so sensitive that it twitches inside Harry’s mouth does Harry pull off. He rolls to his side, both men panting helplessly, their chests rising and falling in rapid succession as Louis tries to calm down enough to speak.

When he finally finds his voice, all Louis manages to eek out is, “Get here,” and he motions for Harry to come up to him, desperate to wrap him in his arms. Harry looks up from where he is curled around Louis’ hip and offers him the sweetest, most innocent smile and Louis wonders how someone who sucks cock so expertly one minute can look so absolutely cherubic the next. He’s so beautiful that Louis lets out the tiniest cry and then wraps his hands around Harry’s shoulders and yanks him up the bed to him.

Harry flops down on top of Louis, clearly as spent as Louis is, but having experienced none of the release. Louis can feel Harry’s cock against his thigh and it’s huge and so hard and heavy that it almost doesn’t feel real. Louis just came his brains out, but the feeling of Harry’s sheathed, stiff dick against his bare skin hits him with a wave of desire and that combined with the fact that Harry spent so much time pleasuring Louis without so much as touching himself makes Louis want to hand over to Harry every piece of himself he can give.

“That was so amazing, Harry. You – ” and Louis’ voice cuts out because he is suddenly so overwhelmed with emotion he thinks the love he feels might puncture his skin like hundreds of points of light, splitting him apart into a million tiny particles. He takes a deep breath to calm down and then continues. “You took such good care of me, love. Let me take care of you now,” he whispers, his breathing still heavy as he rolls over, pushing Harry onto his back.

“I don’t think I can last very long, Lou,” Harry rasps, his voice raw and spent from swallowing around Louis’ cock. He looks at Louis and his face is so open and happy, like Louis just handed him the moon wrapped in a shiny red ribbon. “That was so hot, babe. God, you should have seen yourself, Louis. Fucking beautiful,” he whispers and his voice cracks on the end.

Louis received a fair amount of head during his lifetime, and there were more than a few occasions when he was sure that the person on the other end sincerely enjoyed what they were doing and were getting off on it just as much as Louis was. But he knows for certain that _nobody_ was ever more enthused or more turned on when blowing him as Harry was just now, and the thought makes him feel so content he wants to melt into the mattress.

“Tell me what you want,” Louis says and he holds Harry’s face in his hands and presses kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, and his mouth. He just wants to give Harry so much. He wants to show him what he means to him, wants to prove to him how much he loves him. “I’ll do anything you want, darling.”

Harry shakes his head, exhaustion written across his face, “Just touch me, Lou,” he whispers and Louis nods, because there is nothing he would rather do in the entire universe at this moment than to touch Harry.

Louis wastes no time, he sits up and then climbs over Harry, straddling his lap, Louis’ spent cock landing just below the waistband of Harry’s pants. Harry reaches up and grabs Louis’ arse, cupping his cheeks perfectly in his large hands. Louis leans over and kisses Harry slow and deep and when he pulls away he tuts, “This is about you now, love. You’ve already more than taken care of me.”

Harry squeezes Louis’ cheeks and smiles. “If you honestly think that I’m _not_ going to grab onto your perfect arse when it’s literally sitting on top of me, you’ve got another thing coming, Lou.”

Louis tilts his head as if considering. “Fair enough,” he replies and then he sits upright so he can fully take in the man below him.

Harry’s head rests on a crisp white pillowcase, his chestnut hair lightly fanned out around his face, the curly ringlets falling onto the pillow and over his shoulders. His skin is creamy, his tattoos having an almost three-dimensional quality in contrast and his broad chest shimmers in the soft light of the bedside lamp, the faintest dewy sweat pulling along his defined pectoral muscles and the intersection of his toned abdomen. He looks up at Louis and his green eyes sparkle; his expression is sweet and expectant, like he demands nothing, but will happily accept whatever Louis gives him.

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis says, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re so beautiful. I swear you’re an angel.” Harry closes his eyes for a moment and Louis can see the soft pink blush spread across Harry’s cheeks. Louis hovers his hands over Harry’s lower abdomen and then traces his fingers along the lines that define Harry’s six-pack of muscles and they clench under his touch. He spreads out his fingers and glides his hands up Harry’s chest, but suddenly stops when his index finger runs over a raised nub. He pulls his fingers back and looks closely at the spot, contemplating what he is seeing and when it registers he can’t help the smile that overtakes his face. “Do you…” he whispers and he bites his bottom lip because he’s not sure if he’s being rude but he just can’t help himself. “Harry, do you have an extra nipple?”

Harry laughs and squeezes Louis’ bum. “Look closer, Lou. I actually have _two_ extra nipples.”

Louis leans forward and sure enough, in addition to the perfect pinkish brown nipples that stand out against each pec, there are two extra nipples, one on either side of the butterfly tattoo, the one on the right a few inches lower than the one on the left.

“Oh my god, Harry,” Louis marvels, his voice delighted. “They’re so tiny and cute!” He bends over and kisses the nipple on the left, trailing kisses over the butterfly tattoo and then pressing another kiss to the nipple on the right, Harry all the while lazily stroking his fingers up and down Louis’ arse.

“I wasn’t so crazy about them when I was a kid,” Harry replies, his voice still rough. “But as I grew older, I guess I embraced them. I suppose I didn’t really have any other choice,” he says and giggles. “They’re kind of… unique, don’t you think?”

“I think they’re fucking perfect,” Louis answers sincerely and he rubs the little pink mounds of flesh with his thumbs. He scoots back an inch or two so he can properly lean over Harry’s chest and Harry groans beneath him as Louis’ bum rubs over his cock.

The sound Harry makes, coupled with the feeling of Harry’s thick shaft between his arse cheeks sends a rush of heat through Louis’ body and his own exhausted cock twitches in interest. But this isn’t about Louis.

Louis scoots back further, scratching his hands along Harry’s chest as he moves down his body. He’s now straddling Harry’s thighs and he rests his body on his knees, supporting his weight on the balls of his feet. He places his palms on Harry’s hips and lightly drags his fingertips over the laurel tattoos, scratching his nails across Harry’s delicate skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

Harry’s breathing picks up and Louis just watches as his chest rises and falls with each inhale and exhale. He runs his thumbs along the waistband of Harry’s pants and Harry’s cock is so big and hard that the tip of his leaking head peeks out at the top, a circle of moisture saturating the fabric. Louis leans over and presses his mouth against the material, blowing a hot breath over Harry’s clothed dick and exposed head and Harry’s hips jerk slightly in response, but he does not thrust up. Louis looks at Harry’s face and his eyes are closed and his brows are furrowed. He bites his top lip and it’s clear that he’s straining to hold still. _He’s holding still for me_.

Louis mouths along Harry’s cloaked shaft, his tongue licking at the material and causing Harry to pant out exquisite little moans beneath him. He traces his fingers up and down Harry’s thighs and then settles his hands on the waistband of Harry’s pants, curling his fingers around the elastic banding.

“Take them off, Lou,” Harry pleads. “Please, I need your hands on me,” and his hips roll side to side in encouragement as he speaks. Louis needs no further prompting and he slowly pulls back the waistband, peeling the pants over Harry’s hips and groin and allowing Harry’s trapped cock to fully spring free. Louis quickly pulls the pants the rest of the way down Harry’s long legs, the banding of the pants briefly getting caught around one of Harry’s ankles before Louis rips them off completely and tosses them to the floor. He then scrambles back up Harry’s side.

Louis takes in Harry’s body stretched out before him and he’s so beautiful that Louis can’t believe he gets to have him, gets to touch him wherever he wants. His eyes trail down Harry’s chest and then zero in on the one thing he wants to touch most in this moment: Harry’s cock.

“Fucking hell, Harry,” Louis says, his voice reverent, because Harry’s penis really is a sight to behold. It’s large. It’s _huge_ actually, and although Louis doesn’t have too many points of reference when it comes to other men, it’s by far the biggest dick he’s ever seen on anyone he’s ever been with and that includes the artist, who himself was quite sizable.

Harry’s cock is thick and long and the creamiest shade of pink. For the most part, it is smooth, save for the blue vein that runs from the root to the tip on the underside of his shaft. The vein branches out into a few thin vessels that wrap around his cock but are flush beneath the surface of his rosy skin. Like Louis, Harry is uncut, but right now his foreskin is retracted, forming a tight ring around the base of his head. The head itself is red and glistening and there is a strand of creamy white precome dripping from Harry’s slit and it bridges the gap between the head of his cock and the toned muscles of his abdomen.

“I-I…” Louis stutters, trying to formulate a sentence and properly convey his thoughts without sounding like a crazy person. “Jesus, Harry. I usually top, but at some point I’m going to need this inside of me,” and he reaches out and curls his fingers around Harry’s shaft and his hand looks so tiny wrapped around Harry’s length.

Harry lets out a soft groan at the touch. “God, we were made for each other, Lou,” Harry says and his voice falters as Louis begins to move his hand slowly up and down his shaft. “I usually bottom with other men, but yeah, I want that… I want that, too. So much.”

Louis’ eyes widen in surprise. “I can’t believe anyone would let you bottom once they’ve seen this thing,” Louis marvels, and Harry makes a sound that’s a cross between a moan and a laugh. “Seriously, Harry,” Louis says, his voice full of wonder, “this is the most glorious cock I’ve ever seen. How do you get anything done with this monster hanging between your legs? I’d be touching myself all the time.”

Harry barks out a laugh that quickly turns to a whimper when Louis leans over and squeezes, kissing Harry’s hipbone as he thumbs over Harry’s slit. Louis dips his fingers into the precome on Harry’s belly and then palms it into his hand, wrapping his hand around Harry’s head and then moving it downward over Harry’s shaft, getting it slick. He then begins to pump, the precome allowing Louis’ hand to easily glide up and down, Louis pressing his thumb along the vein as he works a steady rhythm. Sweet little breathy sounds escape Harry’s lips and his body trembles as he responds to Louis’ touch.

Louis uses his free hand to spread Harry’s legs and he nestles between them, nosing up the inside of his thigh and along the soft patch of hair at his groin. He licks his tongue over the spot and Harry’s skin is slightly salty and a thin sheen of sweat is starting to form on his body. Harry smells tangy and sweet, with just a hint of the muskiness of sex and Louis thinks that if Harry’s skin were the only thing he ever smelled for the rest of eternity, it would be a very happy existence indeed.

“Shit, Harry,” Louis whispers, “Your skin… your scent… I don’t even know where to begin. I just want to touch every bit of you.”

Harry rolls his head from side to side on the pillow, “Your hand feels so good, Lou, I – ” and then his voice abruptly cuts off when Louis leans over and clamps his mouth on the tender flesh just below Harry’s hip bone. Louis sucks hard and Harry makes a drawn out mewling sound that only encourages Louis to work his mouth faster, nipping and licking at Harry’s dewy skin while Harry tries to control his hips from rocking upward. And it’s like he’s _trying to be good_ for Louis and fuck, that’s just so hot that Louis feels his own dick start to fill up again even though barely any time has passed since his last orgasm.

Louis releases Harry’s flesh with a wet slurp and he leans back to examine his work, a dark purplish bruise now forming on Harry’s skin. His hand is still slowly pumping Harry’s dick and as he looks down at it he knows he just has to have a taste.

Louis doesn’t know that he’ll ever be able to take Harry’s cock fully down his throat, it’s just so big, but he needs to feel its weight on his tongue and so he leans over and licks at Harry’s head, his hand maintaining its steady pace. “Ohhhh,” Harry cries, dragging out the word as Louis takes Harry’s head into his mouth, his tongue lathing over Harry’s slit before he slides down over the head completely, his lips pressing against the ring of Harry’s retracted foreskin. _God, you taste so fucking good_ , Louis thinks and he suckles on Harry’s head while his hand keeps pumping and Harry grunts, “Yes. Fucking, yes,” and he slides his legs up toward his body, spreading his knees wide.

Louis works over Harry's head, watching in awe as he pants and writhes beneath him. He then pulls off Harry's cock and Harry groans at the loss, but then Louis is licking down his length and tonguing at his balls before sucking the soft sack into his mouth.

“Fuck!” Harry cries, his strained voice bordering on a shout as Louis works his mouth around his sack, suckling Harry’s balls while his hand continuously corkscrews up and down Harry’s thick shaft. Harry’s body trembles and his back arches off the mattress and then he’s closing his knees together on either side of Louis’ head, no longer able to control himself. “Louis,” he whispers, “gonna come,” and Louis can taste it on his tongue and can feel it in his touch; he knows that Harry is so close and he just needs to _see_ it happen.

He pops off Harry’s sack and quickly pushes up, supporting himself on one elbow and then slotting along Harry’s side so that he’s wrapped around his body, his legs sandwiched around Harry’s thigh and his hand never slowing its pace as he continues to pull Harry off. He looks Harry in the eyes and Harry is staring back at Louis and it feels like they are the only two people in the universe and Louis has to lean over and kiss him because Harry is everything he ever wanted.

Just then, Harry’s whole body shudders and Louis tears his eyes away from Harry’s own to watch as he comes: silky white strands shooting from Harry’s cock that leave striped tracks across his chest. Louis looks back at Harry's face and his eyes are clamped shut, his lips slightly parted and his cheeks flushed red. He looks utterly blissed. Louis continues pulling him through until the last drop falls in the damp, triangular patch of hair at Harry’s groin and when Harry flutters open his eyes, Louis stares into them and then slowly leans over and begins to lick the come off Harry's chest, Harry moaning at the sight.

“Louis,” Harry says, his voice breaking on the second syllable, his breath quick and shallow and his body shaking with the aftershock of his orgasm. “So good, love. You’re so good to me.” Harry wraps his arms around Louis as Louis drags his tongue along Harry’s chest, collecting the come and swallowing it down. It tastes almost sweeter than it does bitter and Louis laps at it lazily, not even realizing that he is rutting his own hard cock against Harry’s thigh until he hears Harry speak, his voice still uneven from coming so hard.

“You’re hard again, Lou. Here, let me – ”

Louis freezes, “Oh shit!” he says when he realizes that he’s been grinding against Harry, “I didn’t even know I was doing that. I’m so sorry. God, this was supposed to be about you,” and he looks up at Harry with apology and embarrassment written on his face, but Harry just presses his index finger to Louis’ lips to shush him.

“This isn’t about me, Louis. This is about _us_ , and it will always be about us,” Harry says, his voice earnest, and then he reaches up and presses a kiss to Louis’ forehead. Louis doesn’t know how to react because he has never been with someone so impossibly kind and who is also so invested in sharing pleasure. He can’t imagine what would have happened had he done that to Eleanor, or worst of all, to the artist. Eleanor would have been disgusted and Zee no doubt would have laughed at him and made him feel ashamed. But Harry, Harry just wants to see him through and that’s evident in the way that he glides his hand through the come that remains on his chest and then turns on his side to face Louis, wrapping his hand around Louis’ cock and gently starting to pull.

They stare into each other's eyes and don’t say a word, Harry expertly twisting his hand as his strokes get harder and faster, Louis’ breath quickening at the sensation. Louis’ doesn’t last long, his dick still hypersensitive from his last orgasm, and it’s only a minute or two before he closes his eyes to the fireworks that start shooting through his skin and he comes, the creamy liquid splattering over Harry’s hand and both of their chests. Louis’ body shakes as Harry finishes him off and then pulls him close, repeatedly whispering, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” in Louis’ ear.

The two lay there for several minutes, their bodies completely intertwined, their breathing heavy as they start to come down. Every so often Harry presses a kiss to Louis’ head, or his neck or his face and every time he does so, he tells Louis he loves him, Louis echoing those words back in return.

Louis feels sticky all over; he worked up quite the sweat with Harry and they both have come drying and flaking on their bellies and hands, and Louis can tell by the way the skin around his mouth feels taut that there is also a bit drying on his face.

“Maybe we should jump in the shower, Haz,” he suggests and although they are both ridiculously comfortable, Harry reluctantly agrees. They climb out of bed and head for the en suite and when the enter the room they both catch sight of themselves in the mirror at the same time.

“We’re a bit of a mess,” Louis says, as he looks at their reflection in the huge mirror over the sink. Harry stands behind him and wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, nestling his head against Louis’ shoulder and slowly rocking their bodies back and forth. Louis’ fringe is matted to his forehead, held in place by sweat, and he’s got splotches of come drying on his belly, not to mention he is practically covered in love bites, starting with the one Harry gave him at lunch and now including one on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, a smattering across his chest, and two huge love bites over each nipple.

“I may have marked you up, just a bit,” Harry teases, but Harry doesn’t look much better himself. His hair is smashed against the back of his head and it almost looks like it has been teased into a beehive by the way he was rubbing his head back and forth over his pillow when Louis was working him over. He has a huge lovebite at the base of his hip and he has more come on his chest and neck than Louis does.

Louis turns around to face him and Harry leans over and pecks a quick kiss to his lips before gently scratching his finger on the side of Louis’ mouth.

“Bit of dried semen there, old chap,” he says like an aristocrat and Louis can’t help but laugh, but then he sees the ship tattooed on Harry’s bicep and his laughter is cut short.

“Harry, the ship,” he says, shaking his head and Harry just smiles and nods, pulling Louis’ right hand into his and gliding his finger over Louis’ compass tattoo.

“And the compass,” Harry answers and then he holds his left wrist over Louis’ right and adds, “and the rope and the anchor,” and Louis gasps.

“How have we been naked together for practically two hours and I’m just now seeing these?” Louis asks, his voice full of shock.

“Well, to be fair, we were pretty preoccupied with other things, Lou,” Harry answers and nips at Louis’ shoulder.

“Yeah, like your massive cock,” Louis replies, nodding his head, his eyes still wide with surprise at all of their complimentary tattoos. Harry grins in response.

“But seriously, Harry, we need to talk about this more, I just… We have so many and they just… well, they just _go together_ , Harry.”

“I know, Lou. That’s why I was freaking out when I saw you at the footie stadium. It was the first time I’d seen your arms, those tupas cover everything up and when I saw your tattoos, I just realized that you and me together, Lou, it feels like –”

“Destiny,” Louis interjects and Harry nods his head in agreement.

“Exactly, Louis. You and I were destined to be together, it’s written on our skin.”

“We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, yeah?” Louis asks.

Harry presses a kiss to Louis’ lips. “Definitely. We have so much to talk about, I just want to know everything about you, Louis.”

“Same, Haz. Same.”

“I’ve got something else I need to ask you now though, although it’s a bit off topic.”

“You can ask me anything,” Louis replies, his voice sincere.

“Do you have an extra toothbrush? I’m kind of obsessive about brushing my teeth before I go to bed.”

Louis laughs, “Yeah, me too,” and then he pulls a new, packaged toothbrush from one of the shelves loaded with toiletries by the side of the sink. The two stand side by side and brush their teeth together, taking turns to spit into the sink, Harry nudging Louis’ hip as Louis does his mouthwash follow up.

They are starting to wind down; it’s after three in the morning now and it’s been a very long day for both of them. Louis walks over to the shower and sets the water to a hot, pulsating spray. They step in together and begin to wash each other off, Louis leaning under the flowing water as Harry rubs a soapy loofah across his chest and Harry practically purring as Louis soaps up his back. There is little conversation, just the occasional kiss as they wash each other’s bodies and rinse off under the heavy stream. They’re both tired and completely spent, so the time in the shower is not really sexual, it’s more about being together and sharing in the simple ritual of bathing.

After they’ve washed and rinsed clean, Louis turns the water off and then opens the glass door to step out of the shower stall, but he had forgotten to turn on the exhaust fan before they stepped in so the entire en suite is filled with steam. He turns to Harry, “It’s like London fog,” he jokes, and Harry smiles and takes him in his arms, kissing Louis soft and slow like they have all the time in the world.

When they finally pull apart, Louis reaches to grab towels for he and Harry, but Harry intercepts him. He takes Louis’ hands in his own and guides him to stand on the soft bath mat just outside the glass shower door and then presses a kiss to Louis’ neck. Louis is not sure what is happening and Harry doesn’t say a word, he just reaches out and grabs one of the fluffy towels from the shelf and then drops to his knees in front of Louis and begins toweling Louis’ feet. Louis just stands there, his lips parted in question and his breathing heavy, because no one has ever taken care of him in this way before and he’s not quite sure what to do.

Harry presses the towel around each foot and ankle and then wraps it around Louis’ left calve, gently rubbing it over Louis’ skin to absorb the moisture, and then repeating the process with the right. He transitions from his knees to the balls of his feet so that he is positioned a little higher in front of Louis and then begins carefully running the towel over Louis’ knees and either thigh, gently soaking up the beads of water that still cling to Louis’ skin. Harry is extra gentle when he presses the towel to Louis’ groin and he carefully pats at Louis’ hips before gliding it between his legs and over Louis’ arse.

Louis stands motionless watching Harry work, the muscles on Harry’s back curving and stretching as he glides the towel over Louis’ body, stopping only to press a kiss to Louis’ tummy, his lips warm and wet against Louis’ freshly showered skin. Harry then stands to his full height as he pats the towel over Louis’ chest and then tenderly runs it over each arm. He then steps behind Louis and carefully blots the towel from the dip of his spine at the top of Louis’ plump arse, up his back and over his shoulder blades. Harry then tosses the bath towel onto the floor and grabs a fresh hand towel and carefully pats it along Louis’ hairline and the back of Louis’ scalp.

Louis doesn’t know when the first tear fell, isn’t even aware that he is crying until Harry stands before him, his expression open and understanding as he tenderly glides his thumb across Louis’ cheek and wipes away the wetness.

Louis was with Eleanor for nearly fifteen years and although during that time they had many moments of happiness, it always seemed superficial, like their entire relationship was based on appearances and creating some kind of false front of domestic unity. Besides the pretty, naïve girl with the long brown hair there was Zee, the artist who came in like a whirlwind and made Louis begrudgingly accept who he was before turning Louis’ life upside down and leaving his heart in tatters. And then there were the various one-night-stands that simply took from Louis and gave nothing in return, not to mention Ethan, who offered Louis a glimmer of hope and then blew it all away with one simple text message.

All of those people and all of those relationships that spanned Louis’ life from his adolescence to the day of his death, and not one of them made Louis feel as special and as cared for as Harry did in that moment when they stepped out of the shower and Harry lovingly toweled him off. Such a simple act, such a small gesture, and yet, to Louis it means everything and he is utterly overwhelmed. Harry seems to understand without Louis even saying a word, he simply runs the hand towel over his own body and then takes Louis’ hand, shutting off the bathroom and hall lights as he leads Louis back to bed and lays down beside him.

Louis lies on his side, his head on a pillow as Harry pulls the covers over them and then reaches out to turn off the bedside light. He pulls Louis close, their chests pressed together and their legs tangled.

The room is dark and the night is still and Louis feels sleep beginning to pull him under as Harry traces his fingers up and down Louis’ back, drawing nonsensical patterns on Louis’ skin. Harry leans in and kisses Louis on the cheek and Louis burrows in closer, Harry wrapping his arms around him tightly. They share the same pillow and their faces are so close that their noses nudge against each other and Louis has never felt so content.

“I’m going to love you forever,” Harry whispers, his voice heavy as he starts to drift off to sleep, and Louis believes him.

 


	10. What Exactly is Going on in Your Review?

Louis awakens in the early morning before the darkness in the sky has given way to the first light of dawn. He’s not sure when he and Harry shifted positions during the couple hours they slept, but somehow he finds himself with a mess of chestnut curls in his face and his body wrapped around Harry like he’s a koala clinging to the side of a eucalyptus tree. Harry’s broad, muscular back is pressed against Louis’ chest, his knees are bent, and his ankles are tucked between Louis’ two feet. Harry is gripping Louis’ arms tightly against his ribs and they rise and fall with every breath he takes in and breathes out. Harry is almost a head taller than Louis and Louis has no idea how he ended up in the role of big spoon, but being cuddled around Harry in this manner is one of the best things he’s ever experienced and so he’ll happily take it.

Louis raises his head slightly to steal a glance at the bedside clock and sees that it’s exactly 5:04 AM and that means he and Harry can sleep for a couple more hours before they have to get up and get ready for their Reviews. He relaxes against Harry’s body for a few minutes, breathing in his scent and running his fingertips over Harry’s hands, but the pressure in his bladder is preventing him from falling back asleep so he begrudgingly resigns himself to the fact that he has to leave Harry’s warmth to have a wee. Louis untangles himself from Harry as gently as he can, sliding his arms from around Harry’s waist and then carefully scooting backwards and off the foot of the bed, his movements soft and quiet so as not to disturb him.

While he’s in the en suite Louis wets a flannel and pats it over his tired eyes and then drinks a glass of water before stretching and heading back to the bedroom. When he emerges, the evening landscape displayed through the wall-to-wall window of the hotel room has started to shift in hue from the deepest blackish blue to a warmer purple, a thin line of orange visible on the horizon that hints at the impending morning sunrise. Most notably, Harry stands in front of the window, his hands pressed against the glass as he takes in all of the colors of the pre-dawn skyline.

At first, Louis doesn’t move, just stays frozen in the little hallway outside the en suite and stares at the naked figure that looks out the window and onto the city below. Harry’s arms are outstretched from his sides and his palms rest flush against the windowpane. The lights of the city cast a soft halo around Harry’s body and he looks almost otherworldly standing there, and Louis realizes, that given the circumstances, “otherworldly” is actually the perfect description.

 _He looks like a fucking angel_ , Louis thinks, not for the first time.

Harry’s body practically shimmers in the glow of the sinking moon and looming sun, the changing early morning sky casting flickering shadows and luminous glints of color across his skin. His build is tall, lean, and athletic; his muscles are well defined and evenly distributed across his form. Everything about him: from the way his strong shoulders and broad back taper into his small waist; to the gentle curve of his toned and firm bum; to the long, powerful legs which seem go on forever, could be straight out of an artist’s sketchbook, and Louis can’t believe that he gets to just stand here and stare at Harry’s nude form for as long as he likes.

Harry’s head is tilted to the side as he surveys the cityscape and his hair cascades in soft, curly ringlets over the tops of his shoulder blades. He lifts his left foot and lazily scratches his right calve with his toes and then when his feet are both flat on the ground again, raises and lowers each shoulder and slightly twists his hips from side to side, stretching his back muscles.

And then he speaks.

“I can see your reflection in the window glass, you know,” Harry says, his sleepy voice sounding even deeper than usual. Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis and even in the darkness of the room, Louis can make out the soft smile on his face.

“Sorry, love,” Louis answers, “I didn’t mean to wake you,” and he quickly pads across the carpet and stands beside Harry in front of the window. Harry immediately snakes an arm around Louis’ waist, pulling him in close. They stare out at the city together, wordlessly watching as lights flip on in nearby buildings as the Residents of Judgment City begin to awaken and prepare for their days of helping Intakes navigate every aspect of the Afterlife. Harry leans over and presses a kiss to the side of Louis’ head.

“What do you think it’s like?” Harry eventually asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “To live here… permanently, I mean.”

Louis takes a moment to think about the question and about all of those who live and work in Judgment City before answering.

“I’m not sure, really. Marcus told me that what lies ahead in the next realm is amazing and that every Resident who comes back here does so for the sole purpose of helping Intakes. It’s such a generous, selfless thing they’re doing.” Louis’ mind briefly flashes on Ileana and what Marcus told him about how difficult a job it is to be a delegate. “Every one of them is working to help their fellow man, I suppose. Even though it doesn’t always seem that way…”

Harry pulls back and looks at Louis questioningly.

“Sorry,” Louis adds, self-consciously. “I guess I’m just thinking about my Review. The delegate is really tough on me and it’s hard not to take it personally.”

“Oh, Louis, I’m so sorry,” Harry says and he gathers Louis in his arms for a full hug, their naked bodies pressing up against each other. Louis closes his eyes and rests his cheek on Harry’s shoulder, allowing himself to relax fully into the warmth of his body and the soothing comfort of skin on skin. “We haven’t even talked about our Reviews, love.” Harry whispers and he gently rocks Louis back and forth. “What’s happening with yours? Why is the delegate so hard on you?”

Louis spreads his hands out and they feel so small where they cling to Harry’s back, while Harry’s warm hands practically cover Louis’ own back completely.

“It’s just really strange, because I actually find myself liking her a great deal,” Louis answers honestly, “and then she brings up some horrible incident from my past and I’m absolutely full of anger and resentment and yet I still sort of like her. This whole process is just… not what I expected.”

Harry pulls Louis closer, if that’s even possible, and kisses Louis’ forehead. “Let’s go back to bed, yeah? We can lay down and you can tell me all about it, okay?”

“We can sleep for a couple more hours, Haz,” Louis whispers. “I know you must be exhausted – ”

“I’m not!” Harry interjects. “I just want you to be comfortable. I want to hear everything, Lou, I promise.”

Louis nods appreciatively. “Well, the sun will be coming up soon and it will get really bright in here, so maybe we should draw the curtains first?”

“Let’s leave them open just a bit,” Harry replies. “I love to watch the sunrise and I can’t think of anything better than seeing all the colors of the morning while I hear your voice.”

Louis takes a minute to let that one sink in, because nobody has ever spoken so deferentially about hearing him speak before. Harry just holds Louis tight and allows him all the time he needs. Finally, Louis steps back and grabs one of the curtain pulls and tugs the heavy drapery part of the way across the huge window, leaving the companion curtain fully open so that Harry can watch the sunrise while lying in bed. He takes Harry’s hand and they make their way across the mostly darkened room and both climb under the covers together, Harry first fluffing up a pillow and then laying down and pulling Louis’ close so their bodies are aligned and Louis’ head rests on his chest.

They lie there quietly for a minute or so, Harry pressing kisses to Louis’ hair and lazily stroking his fingers across his back. Finally, Louis speaks.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he says; because really, so much happened during his Review that he doesn’t know if he can properly process it all, much less share the entire day’s events with Harry.

“Start at the beginning,” Harry replies simply, and so Louis does.

Louis tells Harry everything, beginning with his morning session and going straight through to the end of the day. He tells him about the justices and Harry grins when Louis describes the “punk rock pixie” Chief Justice to him. He tells him about Ileana and how she is so incredibly beautiful and so smart and how he wants to dislike her, hate her even, and how he somehow is unable to because even when she is bringing up things that are utterly painful and humiliating, Louis still sees compassion beneath her stony façade. And then he sings the praises of Marcus, telling Harry how their banter reminds him of his relationship with Liam and how he thinks of Marcus as more than just an advocate, but also a friend.

As the morning light of dawn begins to break through the night sky and the room is slowly bathed in changing hues of orange, red and yellow light, Louis tells Harry about the morning session and the two clips where he attempted to break up fights between his constantly-quarreling parents and how in the second clip Louis ran up to his room and collapsed onto his bed in tears and then he tells him the reason why.

All the while, Harry just listens to Louis. He pays full attention and hugs Louis close and tight, and every now and again he pulls Louis into a kiss and tells him how brave he was, how brave he _is_.

Then, Louis tells Harry about the incident with the football kit when he covered for Stan, and how Marcus and Ileana both presented very different versions of that story. When he gets to the part about the confrontation at the dinner table, Harry shifts beneath him, turning on his side so he can look at Louis directly as he speaks, all the while cradling the back of Louis’ neck with his large hand and gently scratching his fingers through Louis’ hair. And then Louis takes a deep breath and shares the story of Brian and his first kiss and what happened when his stepfather walked in on them and as Louis speaks, fat tears begin to roll down Harry’s cheeks and he looks so sad.

After pausing for a moment to rein in his emotions, Louis nervously confides in Harry about Mark beating him with the belt and Harry’s mouth falls open in utter shock. He quickly bolts upright in response, propping himself against the pillows and pulling Louis onto his lap. Harry cradles Louis so close and Louis can feel the teardrops that silently fall down Harry’s face and into his hair.

“Haz, it’s okay,” Louis whispers and he finds himself in the odd position of trying to comfort Harry when Louis was the one who actually endured the trauma.

“It’s not okay, Lou,” Harry answers, his voice broken. “I am just _so_ sorry that happened to you. No child should have to endure such a thing, you didn’t do anything wrong, Louis!” Harry’s voice drops and it’s suddenly seething with anger as he adds, “I swear, if I ever saw him…” and Louis pulls away in surprise and when he looks at Harry, Harry’s face is red, his brow furrowed and his mouth pinched in fury.

Louis brushes his hand on Harry’s cheek in an attempt to calm him, and not for the first time today, he finds himself wanting to protect Mark, despite all that happened between them.

“The weird thing is, he really wasn’t a _bad_ person, Harry. He just had some really skewed ideas at the time.”

“Yes, but those ideas affected your entire life, Louis!” Harry states emphatically. “He _hurt_ you – physically! And then, he piled on emotional trauma by making you think there was something wrong with who you were! He made you feel ashamed for something so… so natural as a kiss. How could you ever forgive him for that?”

Louis is momentarily stunned, because Harry just summed up one of the most defining moments of his life in a couple of sentences.

“I… I don’t know,” Louis answers sincerely. “Outside of the Review Room, you’re actually the first person I’ve ever told this too. I don’t know that I’ve ever _fully_ processed what happened… spent my whole life trying _not_ to think about it, in fact. Talking about it during the Review was absolute torture.” Louis exhales a deep breath. He then places his hands on Harry’s shoulders and leans against his chest. “But telling you, Harry… I feel so relieved having shared this with you.”

“Louis,” Harry whispers. He wraps his arms tighter around Louis’ waist and kisses him tenderly on the lips.

“But I did forgive him,” Louis adds as they pull apart, his voice animated. “He actually changed a great deal,” and as Louis speaks, he thinks back to the night of his wedding rehearsal and how Mark nervously took him to one of the Sunday School rooms in the basement of the chapel for a “father-son” talk that consisted of Mark begging Louis not to marry Eleanor.

“He tried to talk me out of getting married,” Louis says and his mouth flickers a rueful smile at the memory.

Harry’s eyes go wide in disbelief. “He did?” Harry asks. “Why did he do that, Lou?”

Louis shrugs his shoulders and he finds himself caught up in the memory as he explains it all to Harry. “He went to anger management after the last lashing incident,” and Louis feels Harry cringe beneath him, knows that Harry is appalled that Louis was punished in such a way, “but he still had a lot of issues with his rage.”

Louis absentmindedly twirls a strand of Harry’s hair around his finger as he speaks and he concentrates on the springy curl, lost in thought. “To everyone’s surprise, therapy actually worked for him. It didn’t happen overnight, mind you. It took several years and was a very slow process, but he continued going and eventually…” Louis stops talking in mid-sentence, suddenly overwhelmed by the utterly complex relationship he shared with his stepfather.

“Eventually what, Louis?” Harry whispers softly and then he nuzzles his cheek against Louis’.

Louis closes his eyes and allows himself a moment to simply feel Harry’s love. “Eventually he just… changed.”

Harry pulls back to look into Louis’ face. “Changed?” he asks. “Changed how?”

“Yeah, changed,” Louis answers and nods his head. “Changed for the better I mean. He and my mum still had their problems and eventually got divorced, but by the time that happened, Mark was a lot more mellow, wasn’t so quick to go off into a fit.” Louis shrugs his shoulders and looks into Harry’s eyes. “I’d actually almost _forgotten_ how he used to get so angry at the drop of a hat and then we watched those clips yesterday during my Review and it just all came flooding back to me. It’s funny the way we can forget the hard times in our life in favor of the good, yeah?” Harry nods in agreement.

“Whenever Mark would get angry, my mum always stood up for us and would try to get him to calm down, but things always seemed to escalate so quickly… at least they did before Mark got help and learned how to control his rage.”

Louis sighs and shakes his head. “My mum was definitely thrilled that Mark was finally more relaxed and treating us kids so much better, but it was different when it came to her own relationship with him; neither one of them seemed very happy. Who knows, maybe all the fighting between the two of them was what kept their marriage alive? Maybe it was the passion that fueled the whole thing, because once the fighting stopped they drifted apart entirely and that was that.”

Harry stares at Louis, digesting his words and his face is puzzled when he asks, “But why did he try to talk you out of getting married, Lou?”

Louis is quiet for a moment as he thinks back to that long-ago conversation. “He told me that he knew that I wasn’t in love with Eleanor,” Louis answers, matter-of-factly, and then his voice grows more serious. “He said he blamed himself that I was with her at all. He told me that I never could love her properly, because ‘being with a woman wasn’t how I was wired’,” and Louis makes air quotes to emphasize Mark’s sentiment.

“Shit, Lou,” Harry responds, his voice shocked. “Was he being cruel to you when he said that?”

“No, he really wasn’t,” Louis answers, his voice quiet and reflective. “He wasn’t being cruel or condescending, he was just being… truthful. He was actually trying to help me. He’d come to the realization that there was nothing abnormal or bad about being gay and that he was very wrong for the way he had previously treated me, especially when he caught me kissing Brian.”

Louis shakes his head in disbelief, because even though that talk with his stepfather took place years ago, he is still in awe of the changes Mark made in his life, particularly in regards to his views on homosexuality and certainly how he treated people.

“A few years later, when El and I divorced, Mark told me that he felt responsible for my failed marriage because he knew his behavior when I was young was a huge part of the reason I married her in the first place. He honestly was remorseful, Harry, for all that he had said and done when I was a child.”

Louis stares at Harry, waiting for his response and Harry just looks confused, his face deep in concentration as he tries to work through his feelings.

“That’s… that’s good, Louis,” he says, although it comes out more as a question than a declaration.

“Yeah, it was good. It came very late in the game… _too late_ , as it turned out, to stop me from making the biggest mistake of my life. But still, strangely enough, Mark came to fully accept who I was before I even did, which is ironic, because he was the main reason I had so much self-doubt to start with.”

“Wow, Louis, I don’t even know what to say,” Harry responds carefully. “I’m just… I’m happy that he recognized how wrong he was,” and then he quickly adds, “even though I still feel so angry that he hurt you.” Harry draws in a deep breath. “I’m so sorry about what happened to you,” he says, not for the first time, and he hugs Louis tight.

“It’s all so complicated,” Louis responds and Harry nods his head. “I’m not trying to make excuses for him, Harry, because what he did and how he acted when I was younger was very wrong, but I guess… Well, if anything, he is living proof that people can change – for the better, if they work hard enough and fully give themselves over to it.”

Harry’s lips curve up in a slight smile. “I’m glad, Louis. I really am. I’m happy he showed you a better side of him and that you lived to see that.”

“Me too,” Louis responds, “and I want you to know that he wasn’t _all_ bad when I was a child. We had a lot of good times as a family and I have so many positive memories of him playing footie with me and just spending time with me like a father and a son. I know he really loved me, Harry.”

As Louis speaks, he is flooded with memories of the times Mark spent kicking a ball around with him in the backyard and cheering from the sidelines during Louis’ footie matches. He thinks of how they would watch ridiculous horror films and raunchy buddy comedies together and how, when he was old enough to enjoy all of the amenities of their local pub, Mark and he would occasionally have a laugh over a pint. So, despite all of the heartache that came with Mark’s anger issues, Louis did have fond memories of his stepfather. Relationships can be complex and certainly the relationship he shared with Mark was the most complex and complicated relationship of Louis’ life.

All of a sudden Louis realizes something and he squints his eyes and speaks slowly, trying to properly parse his thoughts. “So, my relationship with Mark was kind of the big story of the day. In terms of my Review,” he says. He looks at Harry and huffs a breath of recognition. “It’s so strange, Harry.”

“What’s that, love?”

“I guess… up until now I was thinking about the clips they showed yesterday in terms of fear, but now I can see that they really all centered on how I responded to Mark. He was _one_ person and yet he had such a huge impact on my life and honestly, I don’t think I would have, or _could have_ done anything differently in the clips we talked about yesterday. Ileana spent the better part of the afternoon trying to convince the justices that I was afraid of my sexuality, but that’s such a simple explanation. I was embarrassed and ashamed because of how Mark reacted to it, but there were just… There were just so many layers to what I was going through at the time.” Louis rubs his hand over his chin, deep in thought. “But I do believe that Marcus and I conveyed to the justices and Ileana that there were a lot of other emotions and factors at play. At least, I hope we did.”

“You’re so wonderful, Louis,” Harry whispers. Louis scoots off Harry’s lap and pulls him down the mattress so that they are once again lying intertwined and facing each other, their heads sharing the same pillow. The room is now completely bathed in morning light, but the light is soft and muted. “You’re so kind,” Harry adds, and then places his hand on Louis’ cheek, “and forgiving.”

Harry smiles then and his eyes sparkle when he says, “You’re such a good person and I’m so in love with you, Louis. I feel like I’ve known you forever and I’m utterly head over heels.” Harry’s lets out the softest little laugh, saying, “I’ve never experienced anything like this before, the way I feel about you.” Harry leans in and kisses Louis slow and deep, sliding his body on top of Louis’ and pressing Louis into the mattress. Louis feels warm all over as he raises his arms to caress Harry’s back; his body tingles at the plush push of Harry’s lips against his own, at the slide of their tongues, at the way the slightest touch of Harry’s fingertips feels like flickering sparks against his skin.

 _He loves me_ , Louis thinks, and he’s so lost in the kiss that he almost misses Harry’s quiet words when they pull apart to catch their breaths. “I know you impressed them, Louis. I just know it,” Harry whispers and then leans in and kisses Louis again.

At first, Louis doesn’t respond, too caught up in the moment to think about what Harry is saying. But then Harry’s words register and Louis asks between kisses, “Impressed who?” because he’s really not sure what Harry is talking about, his mind suddenly muddled by the way Harry’s fingers are gliding over the slight round swell of his hips and sliding into the shallow dip at the top of Louis’ thigh.

“The justices,” Harry answers. “The way you handled yourself in your clips, and the way you answered Ileana and Marcus’ questions… I just know that you impressed them. You’re so brave, Louis,” and Louis can’t help but snort a laugh.

“Harry, those clips Ileana showed were designed to prove the exact opposite: that I’m not brave at all, that I lived my life in fear!”

Harry pulls back and looks at Louis, his expression completely serious. “Do _you_ believe you lived your life in fear, Louis?” Harry asks, and there is no judgment in his tone, rather, he seems to be casting doubt on the very idea.

Louis pauses to think about Harry’s question, because even though Ileana spent the majority of the Review trying to prove that Louis’ actions were driven by all sorts of fears, he’s quite certain there was much more to his life than simply being afraid.

“To be fair, I made a lot of mistakes when I was young and it took me a long time to be true to myself, Harry.” Louis looks Harry in the eyes and shakes his head, answering honestly, “But no, I don’t think I lived my life in fear at all.”

“I agree,” Harry states definitively, “and I can see that you’re speaking the truth. The justices are supposedly some of the smartest people in the universe, Lou. They’re going to see that too.”

“I sure hope you’re right, Harry, because I can’t bear the thought of being sent –”

Harry cuts Louis off by pressing his index finger to Louis’ lips. “Don’t even say it out loud, Louis,” and Harry’s expression is serious and his eyes grow wide as he speaks. “You’re moving forward and so am I. We’re moving forward _together_ , Lou. We’re going to be together forever. Don’t doubt that.”

Louis nods his head in agreement but his brain is suddenly screaming because what if Harry is wrong? It doesn’t even cross Louis’ mind that Harry will be returned to Earth. Louis’ Review Room is right next to Harry’s and he has heard the laughter; he knows that the justices and the delegate that reside over his Review adore Harry. But Louis doesn’t feel so confident about his own Review and for the first time since he’s arrived in Judgment City, Louis feels an impending doom rip through his body and settle as a cold chill in his bones.

_What if I get sent back?_

Louis hadn’t given too much thought about being sent back to Earth before this morning, but now that he has given the idea his full attention, Louis doesn’t think it will be so easy to dismiss. Harry starts to kiss him again and before Louis allows himself to get too caught up in the way that Harry’s mouth feels against his own, he speaks.

“Haz,” he says as Harry nips along the underside of Louis’ jaw and tongues the bruise he left below Louis’ ear.

“Mm hmm?” Harry responds, and the deep gruff in Harry’s voice shoots straight to Louis’ dick, but Louis must concentrate.

“What… Um...” Louis closes his eyes for a moment, because Harry’s fingers are softly dragging up and down Louis’ hipbones and Harry’s tongue is dancing along the shell of his ear and Louis is starting to feel the pull of desire in every part of his being. “What exactly is going on in your Review?” he blurts out and Harry momentarily stops what he is doing and then lets out a soft puff of breath against Louis’ cheek. “Seriously, Haz. I can hear you all laughing through the walls that separate our rooms.” Louis lets out a breathy chuckle; “Sounds like you’re having a regular party in there.”

Harry sits up on one elbow and looks Louis in the eyes. “Louis, my Review…” he blows out a frustrated sigh. “It’s so… I just… I just don’t feel right talking about it when your day was so difficult.”

“Harry,” Louis responds and his voice is sincere. “This isn’t a contest. I won’t feel happy if you also had a hard time at your Review. In fact, I want just the opposite. I hope that your sessions yesterday were wonderful, but I’m just curious about what happened, because from what I heard through the walls, your Review seemed so… Well, it seemed so _different_ than mine.”

Harry ducks his head and he looks positively ashamed and Louis thinks that the last thing Harry should feel is guilty for having lived a good life; he should never be embarrassed for casting such a positive impression on the universe that his Review is filled with laughter and cause for celebration.

Harry scrunches his face and he looks almost guilty when he quietly says, “Um… My Review… My Review has been really… _fun_.”

Louis can’t help but grin and squeeze Harry tight because he remembers that when he met Harry yesterday for lunch, “fun” was the exact word Harry used to describe his morning session. “Fun,” Louis says with a smile. “Harry! I’m so relieved! I want your Review to be a good experience for you. Why is it so fun, love? What did you talk about yesterday?”

Louis rolls them both over so that Harry is now flat on the mattress and Louis is stretched out over him, and he feels almost in command. He brushes his thumb across Harry’s cheek and then leans in for a kiss. “What happened during your Review, darling? I want to know.”

“Well…” Harry says, and then hesitates for a long beat.

“Start at the beginning,” Louis suggests with a smile, and so Harry does.

“Of course you know about Sam,” Harry says with a shy smile. “She’s my advocate and she’s amazing. She’s so smart, Louis, I like her so much.”

Louis lightly brushes the fingers of his left hand through the hair at Harry’s temple, pushing it off his forehead. “She seems really nice,” he says, and Harry nods in agreement.

“The delegate, his name is Arnold, and he’s really quite a character.”

Louis grins, “The bloke in the bowtie?”

Harry nods enthusiastically, “Yeah, he’s funny. Like, really funny, and he’s constantly making these little quips that are just hysterical and so the mood in the Review Room has been pretty… _light_. So far,” Harry adds almost as an afterthought.

“What are the justices like?” Louis asks and Harry smiles.

“They seem friendly enough. They’re all quite old. I mean, not to be ageist,” and Harry holds up his hands in emphasis, “but they definitely all enjoyed long lives on Earth. The Chief Justice has to be ninety if he’s a day, and he’s so friendly and he’s just as quick with the one-liners as Arnold is and so the day was just… well, it was just… _nice_.”

“Harry,” Louis says and he feels warmth emanating from his heart and spreading throughout his body. “I’m so glad, love. I’m so happy for you. What kind of clips did Sam and Arnold show? Why was everyone laughing so hard?”

Harry runs his fingertips up and down Louis’ back and takes in a deep breath before answering. “Well, the clip they showed yesterday morning was from when I was a small child.” Harry juts out his bottom lip and puffs out an exasperated breath that causes the curly ringlet that has fallen over his forehead to momentarily lift, blown upwards. “It was really embarrassing, Louis, because in the clip I got stuck in a tree and then had a total meltdown before I was finally back on the ground.”

“Stuck in a tree?” Louis repeats.

“Yeah, like, _literally_ stuck in a tree. My foot was wedged between two branches and I couldn’t move it to save my life. It was utterly humiliating,” Harry adds, and then huffs a soft laugh.

Louis pushes up on his elbow and stacks his fists on the center of Harry’s chest, resting his chin upon them so that he can stare into Harry’s eyes. His legs are slotted between Harry’s own and their groins are pushed up against each other, their cocks mere centimeters apart.

“How on earth did that happen,” Louis asks and he can’t even help himself when he leans forward and nips at Harry’s collarbone.

Harry rolls his eyes in embarrassment. “Well, see… I was rescuing Gemma.”

“Rescuing Gemma!” Louis exclaims and once again he finds himself repeating Harry’s words. “How old were you, Harry?”

Harry shrugs his shoulders. “It happened in the spring, a couple of months after I’d turned six.”

“So Gemma was –”

“Nine,” both Louis and Harry say simultaneously.

“So, wait a minute. Let me get this straight,” Louis says, and he pushes himself upwards so that he is now resting his upper body on his forearms, which are perched comfortably on Harry’s strong chest. “You were six-years-old and got stuck in a tree trying to rescue your _nine_ -year-old sister? I assume she was stuck in the tree too?”

“Well, yeah, and I _did_ rescue her, actually,” Harry answers, his voice humble. “But she wasn’t really stuck so much as she was paralyzed with fear.”

Louis jerks his head back and raises his eyebrows. “Good god, that sounds traumatic.”

Harry smiles. “I promise you the story has a happy ending.”

“Good. Happy endings are my favorite. So what happened, how did you get stuck in that tree, love?”

“Well, our family home sat on several acres of land. There was a huge field behind our house and we also had these woods and a creek and it was like our own little refuge, and our yard was the place where all our friends would sort of… congregate.”

“Congregate,” Louis repeats.

“Yeah, congregate. If we had a day off school, or were on summer hols, or whatever, we just always had friends over; our backyard always seemed to be full of people. So, on that particular morning we were on Easter holiday from school and spring was fully blooming and it was so beautiful and sunny. Of course, Gems and I had a small army of friends over, you know, to play ‘Hide-and-Seek’ and ‘Witch in the Well’ and that sort of thing,” Harry pauses for a minute and draws in a breath, his voice reflective and a bit sad when he again speaks. “Gemma always let me play with her and her friends, Louis. _Always_. I was three years younger than her and I followed her around like a puppy dog and she never once told me to ‘get lost.’ I hope she knows how much that meant to me. She was such a good sister.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers and he gently brushes his knuckles over Harry’s cheek and then leans in to give him a soft, comforting kiss on the lips.

“I’m okay, Lou. I just… Well, you know how it is, the rush of love you feel when you think about the people you cared about on Earth?”

“I do,” Louis answers and he gives Harry another kiss. “I know exactly how that feels, Harry.”

Louis can feel Harry’s body relax beneath him as Harry wraps his arms over Louis’ back. “So anyway,” he says, sighing softly, “we were all running around, having a good time, when out of the blue this one boy we knew from school named Noel declared that our backyard was boring and that he was going to leave if we didn’t come up with something more _exciting_ to do.”

“That little punk,” Louis snickers and Harry grins and then lifts his head to peck Louis on the lips.

“Indeed,” Harry agrees. “Anyway, we had a huge beech tree on our property. Like, ginormous, really, and so Noel said we should all climb the tree and whoever climbed highest would be the winner.” Louis raises his eyebrows but doesn’t interject and Harry continues. “Noel’s challenge seemed perfectly reasonable and so we all stupidly agreed to his plan, but the tree was at least twenty meters tall and the lowest branches were a couple meters from the ground, so our first task was to go to the garden shed and retrieve a ladder so we could even attempt to climb it.”

“My brave boy,” Louis says, and then pushes himself forward so that he can once again capture Harry’s lips against his own, but instead of simply pecking Harry when their mouths connect, Louis kisses him slowly, thoughtfully, allowing his lips to linger against Harry’s before pulling away. “So you got a ladder,” he prompts, and Harry looks up at him, starry-eyed.

“Yeah… Um… We got a ladder.”

Harry shifts his body the slightest bit and his cock rubs against Louis’ and they both draw in a surprised breath at the contact. Louis is not going to allow himself to get fully hard before he hears the rest of this story though, so he slides off Harry’s chest and aligns himself along Harry’s side, his elbow propped on the mattress and his right hand supporting his head while his left hand starts to draw soft circles around Harry’s navel.

Harry pouts and whispers, “Hey! Where are you going?” when Louis scoots off him and Louis can’t help but smile because when Harry juts out his bottom lip and pinches his brow, it’s without a doubt the most adorable thing Louis has ever seen.

“I just don’t want us to get too… distracted. Before you finish your story, that is,”

Louis smirks.

“I quite like being distracted by you, Lou,” Harry says matter-of-factly and he reaches to pull Louis back on top of him, but Louis just wraps his leg over Harry’s thigh to anchor himself in place and says, “You got a ladder and…?” and raises his eyebrows in question.

Harry huffs a soft breath and is only a little frustrated when he says, “Right,” and clears his throat. “So, once we had the ladder in place, Gemma offered it to Noel, told him that he was the one who was looking for excitement and he should be the first one to climb the tree.”

“Good for Gemma!” Louis exclaims and Harry’s mouth turns up into a proud smile. “So, did he climb it?” he asks and Harry tilts his head in response.

“Nope,” he says emphatically, and the word pops on his lips. “He gave this lame, ‘ladies first’ excuse and so Gemma just flipped her hair and climbed right up the ladder and into that beech.” Louis’ eyes widen and Harry grins as he continues. “Gems climbed the tree like she was a monkey on a mission, Lou,” and as he speaks, Harry’s voice gets increasingly excited and he can hardly contain his pride and laughter as he adds, “I swear Louis, she made it to the top of that tree in a matter of minutes, just one foot above the other, higher and higher until she was just a speck, lost in the branches.”

“Oh shit,” Louis responds. “She was a brave one, wasn’t she?”

Harry nods his head once. “Yes,” he answers proudly, “she was very brave, and very strong too. Of course, once she got up to the top, she called to Noel to climb up after her and he refused – mumbled something about being late for lunch and took off running. So then Gemma shouted for her friend Sarah to join her, but Sarah also refused, said there was no way she was climbing that tree and Gemma needed to come back down straight away. Half the kids in our neighborhood were in our backyard that day, Louis, kids of all ages. And _not one of them_ would climb that tree.”

“But you did,” Louis says, and he slides his hand up Harry’s chest and scratches at the soft smattering of hair between Harry’s pecs.

“Yeah… But, I kind of didn’t have any choice,” he answers shyly.

“How so?” Louis asks, and although he’s paying attention to Harry’s story, he’s not so distracted that he doesn’t allow his fingertips to trace over Harry’s nipple, doesn’t fail to register Harry stuttered breath at his touch.

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry whispers and once again Louis leans in to a kiss. Before their lips even meet, Harry flicks his tongue and licks it over Louis’ bottom lip and then he leans up and gently nips at Louis’ lip with his teeth. Louis hovers over Harry’s body, but moves in closer and their tongues tangle before their lips even make contact. The kiss is sexy and raw and Louis feels it everywhere, pushes into it as the repeated press of Harry’s plush, warm lips washes over him, making his body feel light and fizzy. Before he can get too lost, Louis pulls back, the desire to hear the rest of the details of Harry’s story fighting with the equally urgent desire to kiss every inch of Harry’s body.

“What happened to Gemma, Harry? Why did you have to rescue her?” Louis asks, and his voice cracks as he speaks, his breathing heavy.

“Shit, Louis… I…” Harry looks up at Louis and he leans up to kiss him again, but Louis pulls away, teasingly.

“What happened, Haz?” Louis asks again, and he squeezes the hardening bud of Harry’s nipple between his fingers, causing him to wince.

“Well… um… None of our friends would join Gemma in the tree, and she was up at the top… all alone,” Harry replies, his voice deep and breathy. Harry pauses, clearly in an attempt to pull himself together before he continues speaking.

“So she was at the top of the tree by herself?” Louis prompts, and Harry nods his head.

“Yeah. Eventually, everyone went home but Sarah, and so it was just the two of us standing on the ground waiting on Gemma. It was almost lunchtime and I was getting hungry, and so I called up to Gemma to come down. But she didn’t budge an inch, didn’t even answer me.”

Louis leans in closer, fully invested in Harry’s story. “She was scared?” he asks, and Harry answers, “Yes, she was petrified.”

Harry rolls onto his side so he’s facing Louis and slides his arm beneath Louis’ own arm and then slots their legs together. The moment is so intimate and Louis feels so close to Harry, not just physically, but in every other way possible, like they are completely connected, like they are each a half and are only whole when they are together. By the way Harry is staring into Louis’ eyes, Louis senses he must feel it too and then Harry nods his head slightly and Louis knows he does. Several seconds pass and Louis and Harry continue staring at each other and then, Harry speaks.

“She told me later that she was perfectly fine perched on that branch until all our friends started to leave. Then she looked out and realized how far she could see and how high up she actually was and she just kind of… panicked.”

“She must have been so frightened, Harry.”

“She was. When she didn’t answer me when I called up to her I knew something was wrong. Call it ‘brotherly instinct’, I guess. She was so far from the ground that I could barely see her at all. I could tell the outline of her body and the bright blue of her shirt and the denim of her jeans contrasting with the leaves of the tree, but I couldn’t make out her face or anything like that. But still, I just knew that she was too afraid to come down and I also knew that I was the only one who could help her, so I walked over to the ladder and gripped its handrails and then stepped onto the lowest rung.”

“But Harry, you were practically a baby!” Louis exclaims, and suddenly the thought of Harry climbing that tree is filling Louis with panic even though the incident happened over two decades ago and Harry clearly survived the climb intact.

“I know. It’s so ridiculous. Sarah started shrieking at me to get down, said I was going get hurt and that we needed to go inside and get my mum, but I just turned to her and told her that I had to get my sister, so that’s exactly what I did.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers, his eyes wide. “You were so brave. I can’t imagine a child so small doing such a thing.”

“Well, to be honest, I really didn’t think about what I was doing, so that made it a lot easier. I didn’t even really consider that I was climbing this impossibly tall tree, it was more like I was taking a series of steps: the first step was scaling the ladder, the second step was standing on my tiptoes to reach the lowest branch, and the third step was to climb upwards without looking down once.”

Louis looks at Harry and just shakes his head in disbelief and Harry grins, brushing a quick kiss to Louis’ lips before continuing.

“It really wasn’t _that_ big of a deal, Lou,” and Louis can’t help but roll his eyes at that one because a six-year-old Harry Styles scaled a twenty meter tree to rescue his older sister and it’s actually a _huge_ deal. “Beech trees have tons of branches,” Harry continues. “I’m sure if I had slipped or fallen they would have served as a net of sorts and caught me.”

“Harry, you could have been killed!” Louis snaps, his voice agitated. Harry’s eyes go wide and they both just stare at each other for a moment before bursting into simultaneous laughter at the absolute irony of the statement, the fact that they are discussing the dangers of tree climbing from the safety and comfort of the Afterlife not lost on either of them.

“But I wasn’t,” Harry offers and chuckles. “I kept climbing higher and higher and finally I was on a branch just below Gemma.”

“What happened next?” Louis asks.

“Well, Gemma was terrified. It was like she was frozen, although that’s not exactly the right word, because she was trembling all over.”

“The poor girl,” Louis replies softly.

“Yeah. I remember telling her to take my hand and she just kind of shook her head the tiniest bit and she had tears running down her cheeks. I reached up to her and asked her again to take it, but she refused to even look at me. Then, I got frustrated and I told her that she needed to come down from the tree because I was hungry and wanted lunch.” Harry smiles softly, lost in the memory. “I guess the fact that I was trying to get her out of that tree for selfish purposes got to her and she suddenly started laughing and it was like the spell was broken. She was still scared, but she took my hand and slid off the top branch to join me on the branch I was perched on. And that’s how we did it, I would climb down a branch and Gemma would follow me. We held hands much of the way, which made it rather difficult, considering that we were descending a tree. Every couple of meters she would get scared and freeze up again, but I kept whining about being hungry and eventually she would roll her eyes and follow me, step by step, branch by branch.”

“Harry, I know I’ve asked you this before, but how are you even real? You absolutely cannot be an actual human because you’re far too wonderful,” Louis says, and he tucks a loose curl behind Harry’s ear.

Harry presses his forehead against Louis’ and Louis can see the rosy flush spreading on Harry’s cheeks. “Louis,” he whispers, but he doesn’t finish his thought because Louis leans in and their mouths meet in the softest and most tender kiss Louis has ever experienced. It’s sweet and it’s gentle and Louis feels like he’s just drunk a glass of the finest champagne, his body tingling with tiny, effervescent bubbles that pop all over his skin.

“So how did you get stuck, Harry?” Louis asks and he glides his thumb over Harry’s cheek, Harry’s eyes falling closed at the touch.

“Um, well, we were finally getting close to the lowermost branches. We were probably only four or five meters from the ground and the ladder was in sight. I took a step down to drop onto the branch below me and my right foot slipped out from under me and landed right between two branches that were growing one atop the other. I was holding on to the branch above my head, but it was really scary, Louis, because the more I tried to get my foot free, the tighter it seemed to be wedged.”

Louis pulls Harry close and they stare into each other’s eyes as Harry continues.

“But the funny thing is, once my foot got stuck, Gemma went into full-on big sister mode. It was like all her fear just melted away and she literally hopped down onto my branch and practically folded herself over the limb so she could reach my foot and try to pull it loose. The bad part was my foot was starting to hurt, it was really pinched in there tight and my leg was getting all scratched up where she was trying to kind of see-saw it out of there,” and Harry moves his hands in a back and forth motion to demonstrate what he means.

“But, she got it free, then?” Louis asks and Harry purses his lips and shakes his head.

“No, it was like no matter what she tried, she just couldn’t get my foot loose and it only seemed to get wedged in there tighter, so finally she told me not to move, that she was going to get help and she climbed the rest of the way down the tree and sent Sarah to the house to get my mum. Then she immediately climbed right back up to sit with me until my mum arrived.”

“Oh lord, Harry,” Louis says, his voice surprised. “You must have been so scared! And what did your mum do? She must have been terribly frightened.”

“She was, I could hear it in her voice, but by that point I was tired and upset and my foot was hurting very badly and I was also hungry and cranky and when I heard my mum climbing up that ladder to come to me I just lost it and started crying hysterically, sobbing really. I just wanted her to rescue me and hold me in her arms and I wanted to be back on the ground.”

Harry closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath through his nose. He doesn’t speak for a moment and Louis knows that he’s thinking about his mum. Finally, he clears his throat and continues.

“So, my mum climbed up the tree and it took her longer to reach us than it did for Gemma to scale the whole thing, but I was so happy when she finally made it to my branch, because she just wrapped her arms around me and it was so… so _wonderful_.”

Louis nods his head in understanding and then he just has to ask, “When you were watching that clip during your Review, Harry, did you feel like you did that day you got stuck?” Harry looks confused and Louis shakes his head, frustrated that he hasn’t properly articulated his thoughts. “What I mean is, during your screening, did you feel _the emotions_ you felt in the moment your mum first arrived to rescue you?”

“Yes!” Harry answers, his voice excited. “It was like I was literally reliving the moment. I swear, Louis, when I was sitting in that Screening Chair and watching that clip I could even smell my mum’s perfume. It was all so real and the feeling of her hugging me again… It was like I could feel the weight of her arms around me because the comfort and love was so immediate, so true. I felt her presence and her love and I felt Gemma’s. It was… Well, it was just everything, Louis.”

Louis completely understands what Harry means, having experienced the same type of emotions and visceral reactions during his own Review.

Harry’s eyes are wet and he lets out a watery laugh when he says, “Anyway, my mum couldn’t get my foot free either and in the end, she ended up sending Sarah back to the house to call the fire brigade. My mum and Gemma waited with me in that tree until they arrived and really, even though I was miserable and just wanted my foot to be loose from those branches, it was quite wonderful: the three of us huddled together, literally ‘out on a limb’ for one another.”

Louis smiles. “That’s beautiful, Harry.” He lightly strokes his hand over Harry’s shoulder and then settles his fingertips behind his neck. “Your mum and your sister, they meant the world to you didn’t they, love?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers, “and they still do, but it’s okay, you know?” Louis nods his head in agreement, because he _does_ know. He’s not sure when he’ll get used to it, but he doesn’t think he’ll get over how wonderful it is to feel all the love and joy that thinking about his mum, his siblings and all the other people that mattered in his life brings him, and what a relief it is for those thoughts not to be mired in grief. And because of that, the love he feels for them is so pure and _freeing_.

“I guess what happened next is the part where you heard the laughter,” Harry says, pulling Louis out of his thoughts.

“Yeah? I was going to ask, because I don’t understand what’s so funny about a six-year-old child having his foot painfully wedged between two branches of a tree. If those people in your Review Room were laughing at you for getting stuck I’m going to have to give them a strongly worded lecture, Harold.”

Harry grins at Louis and Louis can’t help but press his thumb into Harry’s dimple and then lean in for a kiss.

“They weren’t laughing _at_ me. Well, they were, in a way… But really they were just laughing at the way I behaved. I laughed too, it was so embarrassing and ridiculous that I couldn’t help myself.”

“Well, what happened?” Louis asks, and he nudges Harry’s shoulder.

“Well, the fire brigade arrived and let me tell you, it was with huge fanfare. They drove this massive fire engine straight up our driveway, around the house and through the backyard. Sarah had come back to the tree after she called them and sort of flagged them down. They had the lights on and sirens going and it was literally all the bells and whistles and my mum was just was mortified, said we were going to be the talk of the village for sure. Of course, the words were no sooner out of her mouth than curious neighbors started showing up, tromping through our backyard to get a peek at what all the commotion was about.”

Louis giggles, “This is getting good, Styles,” he says and raises an eyebrow. Harry leans in and kisses the tip of Louis’ nose and then kisses it a second time for good measure.

“So, they parked the fire engine as close as they could to the tree. They turned off the sirens, but they had already done their damage because more and more people were pouring into our lawn, drawn in by the noise and staying to watch. The rescue workers wanted my mother to climb down so they could send a man up to try to free my foot. There was doubt amongst the professionals that the branches could support the weight of two adults and two children, so they told her they couldn’t come up unless she came down first, but when I heard that, I had an absolute fit and held onto her for dear life, so they decided they needed to take different measures.”

“Different measures?” Louis asks and Harry nods.

“You know what a cherry picker is, yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s one of those extension ladders with the bucket on top that a man can stand in, right?”

“Exactly. So, they sent a fireman up in a cherry picker and even though the tree was full of branches, they somehow managed to navigate the thing so it was directly beside the limb that we were sitting on. The fireman tried to work my foot from between the two branches, but it absolutely would not budge and so it was decided right then and there that they were going to have to cut off the offending branch that had me pinned to the tree, and then I would be able to break loose.”

“Oh shit,” Louis says.

“That was actually the scariest part of the whole ordeal, because the fireman used a chainsaw to cut the limb and I was positively convinced he was going to cut off my leg.”

“Oh, Harry!” Louis giggles. “You poor darling.”

“The chainsaw was so loud and I had my fingers in my ears and my mum was holding Gemma and me so tight, but thankfully he was able to saw it off quite quickly and it fell rather cleanly to the ground below. But then it happened,” Harry says and Louis looks at him with wide eyes.

“What happened, Haz?”

“The fireman tried to lift me out of the tree and into the cherry picker.”

Louis is confused for a minute, because wasn’t the task of getting Harry out of the tree the reason the fire brigade showed up in the first place? “I… I don’t understand,” Louis says, his voice puzzled.

“I didn’t want the fireman to pull me out of the tree, Lou. I wanted to climb down out of that tree… _by_ _myself_.”

“But you hurt your foot, Harry, how could you climb down the tree?”

“I didn’t care that I hurt my foot,” Harry answers and he shakes his head in disbelief at his own actions. “There were witnesses! Half my village and most of the kids who had left earlier were now gathered ‘round that tree watching the rescue and all I cared about was the fact that if that fireman took me out of the tree in that cherry picker I was forever going to be known as the big baby who had to be rescued by a fireman and I would not stand for that in any way, shape or form, Louis. So, I did the only thing I could do.”

“What was the only thing you could do?” Louis asks, and he can’t help the smile spreading across his face.

“When my mum let go of me so that the fireman could pull me into the cherry picker, I bolted like a bat out of hell and went further up the tree.”

“Oh my god!” Louis exclaims, and he rolls backwards so that his back is flat on the mattress and slaps his hand over his heart and then begins to laugh. “You actually tried to outrun a fireman? In a tree?” Louis shakes his head and then rolls back up so he’s once again facing Harry. “You did not do that, did you, Harry? Tell me you didn’t do that!”

Harry shrugs his shoulders and smiles sheepishly, “I did.”

Louis can’t control himself and he starts to laugh even harder. “You adorable little troublemaker,” he snorts and then Harry joins in and they are both laughing hysterically. Finally, Louis collects himself enough to ask, his voice excited, “Well, what in bloody hell happened next?”

“Well, it was kind of chaos, because the fireman they sent up to get me loose from the branch was definitely _not_ a tree climber. He could barely climb out of the cherry picker and only went up a meter or so and then got scared and went back into the bucket; I’m sure the poor bastard heard about it for the rest of his days from his brigade mates.”

“Oh shit!” Louis giggles and then wipes a tear from the corner of his eye.

“My mother was furious, she wasn’t yelling, but it was obvious she was not happy by the way she was pleading for me to come back down, but she couldn’t very well go after me; it was honestly surprising she’d made it as far up the tree as she did to start with. Gemma seemed to be bored by the whole thing at that point and hopped into the cherry picker bucket with the fireman and he was able to get my mum to climb in too and they were lowered back to the ground.”

“So how did they get you out of there? Did they let you climb down on your own?”

“Not at first. They sent a second man up the same ladder Gemma and I had used to climb the tree to start, and he was actually a skilled tree-climber and certainly not afraid, so he sort of followed me and tried to coax me to him.”

“Oh my god, Harry!”

“Yeah, it was absolutely ridiculous, because the closer the second fireman got to me, the higher I would climb and before long I was at least two-thirds of the way to the top. There were a couple times he almost reached me, but I was fast and small, and I could snake through branches a lot easier than he could.”

Louis shakes his head, the laughter once again bubbling in his throat as he imagines what the scene must have looked like: a tiny version of Tarzan Harry outsmarting a grown fireman and continuously eluding his grasp in the sinewy branches of a beech tree. “It sounds like some kind of Charlie Chaplin silent movie escapade,” Louis says between laughter and Harry grins and nods his head.

“It was!” he says enthusiastically. “Honestly, Lou, I was just very dedicated to the idea of climbing down that tree on my own. Finally, the brigade chief got on his megaphone and told the man chasing me, his name was _Bob_ , to stop, because all Bob was doing was forcing me higher into the tree.”

“So how did you get down?” Louis asks.

“Well, as it turned out, Bob was both a good tree-climber _and_ a good negotiator, because he promised me he would let me come down on my own, but said that he had to climb down with me, that he would stay a branch or two directly below me and within reach, just to be safe. And so that’s what we did. It was exactly like the way I helped Gemma climb down from the tree, except Bob never got his foot stuck.”

“Oh my god, Harry,” Louis sighs, his voice tinged with laughter. “You brave, wonderful boy.” Harry bites his bottom lip and looks down, a pink blush coloring his cheeks.

“We slowly climbed down the tree and then finally we reached the ladder and Bob climbed down first and then I climbed down after, and when I stepped foot off the lowest rung and onto the ground below, the crowd just erupted in cheers; Louis, it was so incredible. Bob hoisted me up on his shoulders and all the people that had gathered were giving me high-fives and my mum was crying and it was just so silly and funny and… and it was just a great moment.”

Louis looks at Harry and he can’t believe the amazing person before him. He can’t fathom how lucky he is to _know_ Harry, much less to be loved by him. He doesn’t know what to say because he is suddenly flooded with emotion and he feels as if his heart might explode in his chest. He draws in a deep breath and says the first thing that comes to mind.

“I love you,” Louis says and then he leans in and kisses Harry slow and sweet.

“I love you too, Lou,” Harry says when they pull apart, his voice barely above a whisper. Then Harry ducks his head shyly and adds, “So, that was the clip they showed, and Arnold had a field day teasing me, but all in all it was just really wonderful to experience that time again, so yeah, that’s what happened in my Review.”

“Harry,” Louis says, and he once again pushes Harry on his back. The sun has fully risen and the hotel room is bathed in warm light, the partially closed curtains casting a shadow across the top half of the bed. “I’m just so happy for you, love. I know the justices must love you. I’m so proud of you.”

Harry grazes his fingers up and down Louis’ arm. “They seem to like me,” he answers, then raises his voice a bit and laughs, “but who knows what today will bring.”

“You’ll do wonderful again today, Harry, I just know it.”

“I hope so, Lou. And you’ll do wonderful too. I know that your Review is more difficult than mine, but honestly, that just shows what a strong person you are. I don’t want you to be worried about a thing, Louis, because I just _know_ we’re both moving forward. I feel it in my heart,” and Harry taps his fingers on his chest for emphasis.

Louis lifts Harry’s fingers away from his chest and presses them to his own lips. “From your mouth to the universe’s ear, love,” and Harry just grins and kisses Louis for the hundredth time since they first woke up. As he pulls away a thought occurs to Louis. “Um… wait a minute, Harry. What happened in the clip shown during your afternoon session? I heard you all laughing then, too.”

“Oh,” and once again Harry looks embarrassed. “Well, they showed a clip of an incident that took place later the same day.” Louis nods his head in understanding because both his own morning and afternoon sessions featured two clips from the same day.

“Yeah, they did that during my Review, too,” Louis says. “Showed clips from the same day, I mean.”

“Basically, the second clip was very short. We’d come inside after the fire brigade left and my mum made me sit with my foot propped on a pillow because it was a bit swollen and bruised. One of the rescue workers cleaned it up for me, wrapped it and treated the cuts, and so I got to eat lunch on a tray in the family room, which I kind of thought was the greatest thing in the world. Oh, and my mum and Gemma were fawning over me and just treating me like a king, so I didn’t mind that either.” Harry grins, “But, um… I wasn’t quite… satisfied.”

“Satisfied?” Louis asks, intrigued.

“Yeah. It’s so crazy, Louis, but…Well, I wanted to climb the tree again.”

Louis’ eyes go wide and his jaw drops. “You wanted to climb the tree again?” and Louis is starting to think that all he’s done all morning is parrot Harry’s words back to him.

Harry shrugs his shoulders. “I just… I don’t know, Lou, I just liked being up there. It was so pretty and from the outside branches near the top of the tree, the view was incredible; I could see our entire property, our house and our neighbors’ houses. I didn’t really get to properly enjoy all that the first time I went up, so as soon as I finished lunch and my mum put on some cartoons for me, I snuck outside, determined to climb it again.”

“You’re absolutely unbelievable,” Louis says, his voice full of awe. He runs his fingers through Harry’s hair and then lightly scratches at his scalp, Harry melting into his touch. “After all that happened – Harry, you were literally cut out of that tree and yet you wanted to climb back up it again!”

“I just wanted to take in the view from on high, Lou,” Harry replies and then giggles, clearly embarrassed. “But I didn’t get very far anyway. The ladder had already been put away and I was too small to carry it out to the tree on my own, although I did try. I was attempting to drag it out of the shed when my mum caught me, ushered me back into the house and made me promise not to climb that tree again, at least until my foot was properly healed and not without supervision.”

“Did you climb it again, Harry?”

“I did. I had to nag my mum for a solid week, but finally she agreed. I guess she knew that I was going to end up back in that tree with or without her permission so she might as well let me. So she stood on the ground and watched as I climbed it, and Gemma climbed it with me and it was so much fun. After that, I climbed the tree all the time, mostly by myself. I spent a lot of summers in that tree, Lou. When I got older, I’d take my journal or a book and sit up there for hours; it was so quiet and peaceful.”

“Your mum must have been as brave as you were to let you go back up there, though,” Louis says softly.

Harry smiles and nods his head. “Every now and again the story of that day would come up in conversation, it was kind of a family favorite told around the dinner table and that sort of thing. I remember I was home from Uni on Christmas break the last time we talked about it and I asked my mum why she let me climb the tree again after what had happened and she told me that there were enough things to be afraid of in life and she certainly wasn’t going to plant unnecessary fear in my head. She said she was proud that the incident didn’t frighten me away from climbing trees or just, you know, being adventurous, and so she let me do it. She just… she was so lovely, Louis.” Harry goes quiet then, caught in the memory of his mother and then blows out a soft breath and adds. “And that was the clip. After we viewed it, Sam and Arnold asked me a bunch of questions and we talked about why I wanted to go back up into the tree and Arnold cracked more jokes and then the justices called it a day.”

Louis is quiet and he just stares at Harry, his mind whirring because he’s finally starting to understand what all of the fuss regarding fear is about. It’s like something clicks in him and he suddenly _gets_ why it’s so important and why it’s the main focus of the Reviews. Harry experienced something truly frightening at a very young age and that incident could have had a ripple effect that made Harry fearful of climbing trees, made him afraid or heights, or fire engines, or just, all sorts of things. But instead, Harry actually embraced what happened and used it to go out and have more adventures. He turned the frightening episode of literally having to be cut out of a tree into something positive, was actually able to climb back up that tree and turn it into his own, private oasis. It must have been so freeing for him.

“Lou, are you okay?” Harry asks after a long beat has passed and Louis hasn’t spoken, completely lost in thought.

“You’re going to move forward, Harry,” Louis declares and then his voice is softer when he adds, “I have no doubt, love.”

“You’re moving forward too, Louis. You’re my destiny and we’re moving forward together.”

Louis smiles, because Harry looks so sure and happy and Louis doesn’t have it in him to burst Harry’s bubble by casting doubt. But after what Harry has told him about his Review, and after he realizes that during the course of his morning and afternoon session, Harry’s Review Board only looked at _one_ day from Harry’s life, Louis can’t help compare Harry’s Review to his own. There was no laughter in Louis’ Review Room, there were no witty quips and his clips certainly didn’t feature people showering him in applause. Louis’ Review was taxing and traumatic and when the day was done, Louis felt exhausted and unsure of himself and now, he feels worried, the heavy weight of doubt resting on his shoulders.

_What if I get sent back?_

Louis pushes the thought out of his mind because he simply cannot allow himself to go there; he knows that he has to stay positive and be his best self for his Review to be successful. Also, the very last thing he wants to do in the world is upset Harry, who is looking at him like Louis hung the moon.

“We’re going to move forward together,” he whispers and he says it for Harry and he says it for himself. Harry smiles and nods his head, pulling Louis in close and kissing him tenderly. “We’re going to move forward together,” Louis repeats and this time he says it like a prayer, says it like he believes it because if he believes in it hard enough, maybe it will come true.

Louis cradles Harry’s face in his hands and then slides his fingers into Harry’s hair, tangling them in the loose curls. He kisses the underside of Harry’s chin and then peppers kisses over Harry’s cheeks before making his way his mouth, Harry smiling happily below him. Before he leans in to kiss him properly, Louis looks into Harry’s eyes and the way Harry is staring back at him it’s like they are completely connected, like they share every thought, every desire, and every happiness. “We’re going to move forward together,” they say at the same time, and Louis can’t help the smile that spreads across his face because Harry is his soul mate and he knows they are meant to be.

“Yeah. We are, love. We are,” Louis says and dear god, he wants nothing more than to fully believe it. He takes in a deep breath to clear his thoughts and then glances at the bedside clock. “We have a little less than twenty minutes before our wake-up call, Harry. Do you want to try to catch a little power nap?”

“Nope,” Harry answers and in a stellar move, flips Louis onto his back and pins his arms over his head before clamping his mouth over Louis’ bicep and sucking a love bite into his skin. Louis lets out a hiss and his hips stutter upwards in response and then he allows himself to fully let go, the anxiety he feels at the thought of being sent back to Earth finally retreating and lust filling the empty space left behind. Harry pulls his mouth off Louis’ arm with a loud, wet slurp. “I didn’t tell you about the best part of my Review, Louis,” Harry whispers, his voice husky with desire, his lips plump and red.

“Yeah, what was that, love?”

“The best part of it all was that during my lunch break I got to snog the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, did you now?” Louis says with a laugh. “Well, he must have been a very lucky man to have had _that_ pleasure.”

“He seemed to really enjoy it,” Harry answers, his voice playfully smug as he moves in, slotting his lips between Louis’ and sliding his tongue into his mouth. Harry slides his legs between Louis’ and Louis wraps his own around Harry’s calves as their mouths repeatedly connect, their kisses growing increasingly passionate with each press.

Louis feels the pleasurable pull as his cock starts to fill up, his body thrumming with desire as he leans up and presses his mouth over the tender area between the juncture of Harry’s ear and the top of his jaw and then bites down, sucking on Harry’s flesh. Harry lets out a happy sigh and Louis can feel Harry’s thickening cock against his belly and he knows that he’s just as aroused as Louis.

Harry rolls his hips downwards and Louis grinds up against him and the sound that escapes Harry’s lips at the contact is both obscene and music to Louis’ ears. Harry slides his hands around Louis’ hips and his fingertips slide between Louis’ body and the mattress, landing on his plump arse, which Harry squeezes, causing Louis’ to momentarily lift his bum off the bed to chase the pleasure.

“So, this man you met for lunch,” Louis whispers and he trails kisses up Harry’s jaw and towards his mouth as he speaks. “Was he a good kisser?” And with the question, Louis gives Harry a kiss that is wet and languid, Louis’ tongue gliding against Harry’s in a slow rhythm that matches the motion of his circling hips. Harry moans into Louis’ mouth and his own hips press forward to match Louis’ movements, their cocks sliding against each other and the sensation causing electricity to shoot through Louis’ groin and emanate throughout every inch of his body.

“He was,” Harry answers with a smirk and then he lets go of Louis’ bum and slips his hand between their two bodies. “Louis,” he says, dragging out the second syllable as he runs his fingertips over Louis’ hipbone and across his tummy, sliding ever closer to Louis’ groin and hard dick. “I want so much with you,” and before he can finish articulating his thought, Louis’ mouth has once again found his and they are kissing like it’s their last day on Earth and the union of their lips is the only thing that will save them.

“My god, Harry,” Louis whispers when he finally comes up for air. He lets out a breathy laugh and presses his forehead against Harry’s. “Can you imagine the damage we could do if we actually had some lube?”

Harry pulls away, his expression surprised and suddenly Louis feels his cheeks flush and a wave of red-hot embarrassment washes over him, his body immediately stilling. “Shit, Hazza,” he mutters, “that was really forward of me. I-I’m so sorry.”

“Louis!” Harry exclaims and his face splits into a wide grin, his breathing heavy from all of the kissing and grinding. “We’re rutting against each other like a couple of horny teenagers. I’m not shocked that you mentioned lube; I’m shocked that you don’t know that they have it here.”

Louis’ mouth drops open and for a moment he is speechless. “They have it here?” he finally ekes out, and Harry nods, his smile never leaving his lips as he twists his body and then leans over and pulls open the drawer to Louis’ nightstand.

“At least, I’m assuming your room is stocked with it, since mine is…” Harry fiddles around in the drawer for a moment and then turns back to Louis triumphantly, three shiny plastic bottles cradled in his right hand. Louis eyes widen as he reads the labels on the bottles. There is a water-based lubricant, a waterproof silicone formula, and a butterscotch-flavored warming lube that looks especially appealing.

“How… how did you know that was in there?” Louis asks, and he stretches his body over Harry’s to peer into his nightstand drawer so that he can see its contents for himself. Along with the bottles of lube that Harry has removed, there are two plastic tubes labeled _Arousal Cream for His Pleasure_ and _Arousal Cream for Her Pleasure_ , respectively; an electronic handheld massager which Louis suspects could very easily be used as a vibrator; and a pair of small, velvet-lined clamps that look ideal for use on the nipples. Oddly enough, there’s also a set of colored pencils and a thick coloring book of intricate drawings titled _The Relaxation Coloring Book for the Newly Departed_ , a moleskin notebook, a legal notepad and a set of pens boasting _The Regency_ logo.

“What in the fuck is this place?” Louis asks, completely dumbstruck. “There’s literally sex toys, coloring books and office supplies in the same drawer!”

Harry sits upright, his thighs straddling Louis’ and leans back on his knees. He drops the bottles of lube on the bed and holds out his hands as if framing a billboard, raising his voice like he is a late-night infomercial pitchman and replies, “The Afterlife, where your every need is anticipated and accounted for.”

“Shit, Harry,” Louis says, impressed. “That’s really good. Did you work in advertising?”

“No, I was a literature professor,” Harry answers matter-of-factly, and Louis feels a jolt of electricity shoot through his body at Harry’s response.

“Holy fuck, that’s so hot,” he whispers, his voice full of awe. His mind instantly flashes on what Harry must have looked like standing in front of a blackboard in a lecture hall full of students, a light, linen shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest and his legs encased in painted-on jeans. Maybe Harry wore one of those scholarly-looking corduroy jackets with patches on the elbows when he taught. He wonders if Harry ever wore glasses, because god, he would look amazingly sexy in glasses. “Good god,” he mutters, “every last one of your students must have wanted to shag the living daylights out of you.”

“Louis!” Harry chuckles and then to remind Louis of the topic at hand, he scoops up the trio of lubricants and waves them in front of Louis’ face.

“How did you even know those were in there? I never would have thought to open that nightstand in a million years,” Louis says, and his mind is really spinning because they have lubricant and use of it is obviously _sanctioned_ in the Afterlife and shit, he’s so hard right now and Harry is naked straddling him and he wants nothing more than to use that lubricant to fuck Harry senseless.

Harry shrugs his shoulders sheepishly. “I wanted to leave a thank-you note for the maid. You know, since I couldn’t leave an actual tip. My room is always so tidy and I met her in the hotel corridor, and she’s just so sweet and so I wanted to show my appreciation for her hard work. So yesterday morning I was rifling about looking for pen and paper and when I opened my nightstand – well, what I found was a portable sex shop.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis replies, surprise still ringing through his voice.

“I don’t think He had anything to do with it,” Harry deadpans, and Louis laughs.

Louis suddenly feels fuzzy and warm all over. “Harry,” he says and he wraps his hands around Harry’s hips. “You were leaving a note for the maid? You’re so lovely, darling.” He pauses for a moment, staring into Harry’s bright green eyes: they’re so open and kind and Louis knows he’s never met anyone more beautiful than Harry is, both inside and out and suddenly he’s overwhelmed.

“Fuck!” Louis exclaims and he squeezes Harry’s hips. “I don’t know what’s hotter, Harry: the fact that you’re so wonderful that you wanted to leave a thank-you note to the woman who changes your linens, or the thought of you calling me into your office to reprimand me for misbehaving in class.”

Harry snorts a laugh. “I actually like the second option best, Lou,” Harry answers and then he once again holds up his hand, showing Louis the lubricant. “Can you imagine the damage we could do if we had lube?” Harry teases, doing his best impression of Louis’ voice.

“You little shit,” Louis laughs and then slides his hands up Harry’s back and pulls him down to shut him up with a kiss. Harry laughs into it and starts to kiss back, but before they can get too heavy, the loud ringing of the bedside telephone interrupts them.

“Nooooooo!” Louis whines, drawing the word out impossibly long.

“It cannot be time for a wake-up call,” Harry groans, his face pulling into a pout. “That’s just not fair.”

Harry picks up the telephone receiver and hands it to Louis and Louis thanks the front desk clerk for waking him, even though he’s been up for two hours and barely slept at all the night before. He’s about to sit up, but Harry pushes him back down against the pillow, whispering, “I just need three minutes. Three more minutes with you to snog you properly, and then we can get up.”

Louis grins. “Where’s your watch, Harry. You know we’re going to need to set an alarm.” Harry reaches over and grabs his wristwatch off the nightstand where he had placed it beside Louis’ after his striptease the night before. He quickly sets the timer and then leans in pressing his mouth against Louis’ and kissing him lazily. After what Louis suspects is longer than three minutes (Harry actually set his watch for five), the timer goes off and the two begrudgingly climb out of bed.

“Shower?” Harry asks and Louis nods. Harry heads off into the en suite to have a wee and start the shower and Louis is just about to go in and join him when he hears a knock at the door.

“Just a minute!” he calls and then enters the bathroom just in time to catch the backside of Harry as he steps under the hot spray and stretches his body beneath the streaming water that pours from the showerhead. Louis momentarily freezes and stares, because really, Harry just looks so good.

Harry catches Louis gawking at him and winks. “You gonna join me, Louis, or are you just going to stand there?” The knock at the door sounds again.

“Shit, Harry, there’s someone at the door. I’ll see who it is and then be right in.” He grabs his robe from the hook on the back of the bathroom door and flips on the exhaust fan on his way out of the en suite and then hurries down the hall, pulling the robe on and tying its belt quickly around his waist as he opens the door.

He’s not entirely shocked to see Donald standing there, but he is surprised by what Donald is holding. Donald’s left arm is raised slightly and in it he holds a hanger, on which hangs a freshly pressed tupa. Also secured to the hanger is a small white plastic bag bearing The Regency logo.

“Good morning, Louis!” Donald exclaims, and he’s far too happy for someone who is already dressed and active at 7 AM.

“Morning, mate. How are you doing today?”

“I’m very well, sir, thank you for asking!” Louis can’t help but smile, because Donald is just so _pleasant_ and Louis really likes being around him.

“Louis. Call me Louis, Donald. You never have to refer to me as ‘sir’, remember?” Donald nods his head and smiles at the reminder. “Oh! I wanted to thank you for last night. For arranging the footie, I mean. Shepherdshire was amazing and I had such a great time. Played the best match of my life… or death,” he adds and Donald chuckles.

“I’m so glad to hear that, Louis,” Donald says, his voice genuine. “I was very pleased when you selected Shepherdshire, the pitches are so lovely and the people there are very nice.”

“Yeah, it was great. Maybe one day you’ll take me up on my offer and we can play footie together, mate,” Louis says and Donald practically beams.

“That’s very kind of you, Louis. I would like that very much.” Donald clears his throat. “The reason I stopped by is to deliver this,” he says and then he hands the hanger with the tupa over to Louis.

Louis looks at Donald, utterly confused. “Why are you bringing me a tupa, Donald? I have a whole cupboard full of these things.”

“It’s not for you, s-Louis,” Donald says and then leans forward, lowering his voice. “It’s for your guest.”

Louis’ mouth falls open and he can feel the flush spreading on his cheeks. “Oh,” he says, “um… you know about that? My guest, I mean.”

“Of course! I met Harry last night.” Donald raises an eyebrow conspiratorially and it’s obvious he’s trying to contain a smile. “If I might be so bold, he’s quite smitten with you, Louis. Anyway, I thought he might appreciate a fresh tupa and pants and so I called his concierge to get his size. I-I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds.”

“Of course not,” Louis replies. “That’s very kind of you. I know he’ll appreciate you looking out for him. We both do.”

“I’m happy to be of service. Shall I send breakfast up? Say in twenty minutes?”

“Sure, that would be great. Thanks, Donald.” Donald steps back to leave and just then Louis hears a noise from the en suite and he realizes it’s Harry humming happily in the shower. “Um, actually, mate. Can you give us half an hour?”

Donald smiles. “Half an hour. Of course.”

Louis shuts the door, hanging Harry’s tupa in the cupboard and then padding quietly to the en suite. He carefully pushes the door open just a bit and peeks inside. Harry stands under the pulsating shower stream, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, his hands running through his hair as he rinses the soapy lather of shampoo down the drain. Thin streams of water run down Harry’s neck and trickle across the curved planes of his chest, down his muscular abs and into the thick patch of hair at his crotch. The hair on his legs is wet and plastered to his muscular thighs and water drips down his shins, pooling at his feet. He looks absolutely gorgeous, but best of all, Harry is making the sweetest noise, smiling to himself as he hums a tune that Louis immediately recognizes as Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love”.

“So beautiful,” Louis whispers and then pushes the door the rest of the way open and enters the en suite. Harry opens his eyes at the sound and grins.

“Took you long enough,” he teases. “Who was at the door, Lou?” Louis removes his robe and hangs it on the back of the bathroom door and then walks to the shower, opening the glass door and stepping inside. Harry immediately pulls him into his arms, hugging him against his chest.

“It was Donald. He actually stopped by to bring you a fresh tupa and pants.”

“Did he? He’s so nice,” Harry says, his voice fond. He pulls Louis under the shower stream and then squirts a bit of shampoo into his hand and begins to wash Louis’ hair. Louis feels utterly pampered as Harry gently drags his fingers across Louis’ head, massaging his scalp. “He was really helpful in getting me out to the pitch to see you last night, Lou. I couldn’t believe when I saw him later at Sam’s party.”

“Mm hmm,” Louis answers, his eyes closed and his body lulled into utter relaxation at Harry’s touch. Then suddenly, what Harry said hits him and Louis' eyes pop open and he looks up at Harry, pushing the soapy hair back from his forehead to keep it from dripping into his face. “Wait a minute. Did you just say that _my_ Donald was at Sam’s party?”

“Yeah. He was one of the special guests. Did you know he used to be a delegate? He’s incredibly smart, uses fifty-two percent of his brain.”

“Wait. You’re telling me that _my_ Donald was a delegate?” Louis shakes his head in disbelief. “And he uses _how_ much of his brain?”

“Fifty-two percent. But seriously, Lou, you’ve got to stop calling him _your_ Donald. You’re making me jealous,” Harry says, grinning. He leans in and nips at Louis’ neck.

“I just… I had no idea he used to be a delegate. You know, I asked him yesterday if he might like to join me at the pitch for some footie and he told me he had a previous engagement with some old colleagues, but I never would have imagined that those colleagues would be people from Marcus’ firm and that you and he would be attending the same event.”

“Invited him to play footie, hmm?” Harry asks, his voice teasing. “Now you’re officially making me jealous, Louis.” He gently guides Louis’ head under the spray of water and rinses his hair, dragging his fingers through until all the bubbles have washed down the drain and then squirting a dollop of conditioner into his hands and applying it first to Louis’ hair and then his own. Louis says nothing while Harry works, just stands there and allows Harry to take care of him. They soap up each other’s bodies and rinse off under the spray and then Harry pulls Louis in for a hug, and ribs at Louis once again, “ _My_ Donald. I asked _my_ Donald to play footie. _My_ Donald uses _how_ much of his brain?” he says, impersonating Louis’ voice. His tone is happy and light and he’s clearly making fun, but Louis doesn’t miss the opportunity to set him straight.

“I promise you, Harold, you have absolutely nothing to be worried about,” Louis says and he ducks his head and sucks Harry’s nipple into his mouth, biting the soft skin and suckling on the tender bud. Harry immediately hitches a breath and Louis can’t control his smirk when he looks into Harry’s eyes, pulling off with a pop to declare, “ _My_ Donald is a friend. But _you_ …” and he once again takes a teasing bite of Harry’s nipple before again letting go, “You, on the other hand… Well, Harry. You’re what’s actually _mine_ , aren’t you?”

Harry’s lips curve up into a smile and he pulls Louis up for a kiss. “I love it when you get possessive,” he says gruffly, smacking their lips together. “I _am_ yours, Louis.”

“I’m yours and you’re mine,” Louis replies and he trails his fingertips down Harry’s abs before slowly dropping to his knees. He looks up and Harry is staring at him, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes full of want. “You’re all _mine_ , Harry. And I’m going to take care of you.”

Harry draws in a breath, but before he can make another sound, Louis wraps his hand around Harry’s cock and starts to slowly pull. He gently pushes back Harry’s foreskin and then begins to leisurely lick at Harry’s head. Harry’s breathing immediately picks up and he starts to make soft little whimpering sounds. He reaches down and places his hands on Louis’ shoulders before gliding them up Louis’ neck and settling them in the hair at the base of his scalp.

It takes no time at all for Harry to get fully hard; he’d never gone completely soft from their earlier romp in bed and so before Harry even knows what’s happening, Louis licks his lips and then slides his mouth over the head of his cock, suckling the sensitive skin for a minute before swallowing down his length.

Harry’s head lolls backwards, the spray of the shower running in cascades over his hair and rushing down his shoulders and back. Louis slides his hands between Harry’s legs and Harry automatically spreads his feet apart and Louis wastes no time cupping his hand around Harry’s balls and massaging their soft surface with his thumb.

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry grunts and he scratches his fingers along Louis’ scalp. “So good. You’re so good to me.” Louis responds by gliding his finger back and forth over Harry’s taint, pressing on the sensitive tissue and causing Harry to let out a guttural cry as his prostate is stimulated from below. All the while, Louis keeps sucking on Harry’s cock, slowly pulling back and then diving forward, gliding his tongue along Harry’s shaft and every now and again delicately grazing it with his teeth and causing Harry to whimper at the intense sensation of pleasure mixed with a little bit of pain.

When Louis glides his middle finger between Harry’s crack and over his rim, Harry squeezes the back of Louis’ neck, unable to control himself, his panting breath and the suckling sounds made by Louis’ mouth mixing with the pounding beat of the water to create a sort of hot, sexual symphony.

“Lou,” Harry moans, and Louis looks up to see Harry reaching for one of the built-in shower shelves and pulling down a small plastic bottle, which he holds out to Louis. Louis pops off Harry’s dick with a loud smacking sound and he looks at the bottle and his eyes immediately go wide. He looks back at Harry and Harry just nods his head. Harry’s words are measured and his breathing heavy as he says, “I mean… Obviously we don’t have time for you to fuck me properly, but your fingers, Louis… Please, just give me your fingers.”

Louis swallows and then leans forward, nuzzling his cheek against the soft hair that surrounds Harry’s cock and then biting along the laurel tattoo on Harry’s left hip. He needs to clear his head for a second, because what Harry just said is so fucking hot and his own cock is already leaking against his belly and he wants this moment to last.

“Shit, Harry,” Louis finally says, his voice hoarse, his breathing heavy. “I didn’t even see you grab this,” and he can’t help the smile that slowly turns up the corners of his lips as he looks at the bottle of silicone lubricant in his hand. “You naughty, wonderful boy.”

Louis pops open the top of the bottle and drizzles the lube over the fingers of his right hand, rubbing them back and forth and slicking them up. He closes the bottle and sets it on the shower floor and then places his hands on Harry’s thighs, gently pushing him back so he’s leaning against the shower wall that is perpendicular to the wall with the built-in bench seat. Harry spreads his legs and looks down at Louis, his pupils blown and his lips parted slightly, water glistening all over his body, and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone so perfect and willing, but he raises his eyebrows, wanting to make sure he has proper approval. Harry’s eyes fall shut and he croaks, “Fuck yes, Louis. Please.”

Louis let’s out a deep breath, momentarily overwhelmed by Harry’s desire, but he quickly finds his bearings and glides his hand between Harry’s thighs, the slippery tip of his index and middle fingers gliding over Harry’s taint at the same time he sucks his cock back into his mouth. Harry’s head falls back against the shower wall and he reaches down with grabby hands in an attempt to touch Louis anywhere he can, settling his hands on either side of Louis’ head.

Louis moves his fingers upwards teasingly slow and then draws circles around Harry’s rim and Harry’s body tenses and he grips Louis’ head ever so gently in response. Louis begins to apply more pressure then, circling closer to the tight ring of muscles until he finally slips the tip of his index finger inside causing Harry to gasp, his hips stuttering forward.

Louis slides his finger in and out slowly, pressing his thumb against Harry’s rim and causing Harry to make soft, whimpering noises as his hands start to thread through Louis’ hair. Harry’s body is so warm and tight around his finger and his skin is so plush and buttery soft and Louis is so turned on by the feeling that he wonders how he will ever be able to handle the sensation of that tight, soft heat surrounding his dick. He pulls off Harry’s cock then and licks up its length while he pumps his finger a bit faster before pulling it nearly all the way out to slip in his middle finger alongside the first. Harry positively moans at the stretch and once again Louis takes Harry’s cock into his mouth, but Harry’s dick is huge and Louis doesn’t think he can take it all, even as Harry’s head nudges the back of his throat. He lifts his free hand then and grips it around the base of Harry’s shaft and begins to slowly twist his hand back and forth, squeezing gently as he bobs his head in time to the in and out motion of his fingers in Harry’s arse.

Louis scissors his fingers open then and Harry’s back arches off the wall and he groans out, “Yes. Yes. Fucking, yes, Louis,” and so Louis repeats the move again and again, stretching Harry open and making him pant.

Louis eases off Harry’s cock and his voice is spent as he asks, “Three, Haz? Can you take three, love?” Harry just nods in response, too overwhelmed to speak, but he whines at the loss when Louis pulls his fingers gently back out.

Louis grabs the bottle of lube and squirts more onto his fingers and then he folds his index finger between his middle and third finger and pushes them against Harry’s rim, slowly pressing them inside and sliding them upwards all the way until the tight ring of Harry’s rim is clamped around the base of Louis fingers at the top of his knuckles. Harry’s body is so tight and Louis’ fingers are compacted together in such a manner that they actually almost hurt, but then Louis slowly starts to spread them apart and Harry’s body relaxes a bit around them. Louis stretches his fingers upwards then, gliding them in and out until he finds what he’s looking for. And when he’s sure he’s found Harry’s spot, he crooks his middle finger just so, pressing down on the sensitive gland and eliciting a drawn-out whimper from Harry.

Harry pulls at Louis’ hair, unable to control himself and his legs are trembling like they may give out at any second. Louis doesn’t slow down though, doesn’t give Harry a break, he just repeatedly presses on the sensitive bundle of nerves, a thick bead of precome spurting out of his own cock at the sight of Harry coming apart at Louis’ hand.

Louis is so hard and his knees are starting to ache against the hard tile, but the way that Harry is writhing and moaning above him is worth the discomfort and Louis can’t even help himself when he leans forward and once again sucks the head of Harry’s cock into his mouth and takes Harry down as far as he can go, corkscrewing his hand around his base and using the other to repeatedly pound into Harry’s prostate.

Louis feels Harry’s dick go impossibly harder inside his mouth, tastes the precome on his tongue and knows that Harry is getting ready to come. He slows down the movement of his fingers inside Harry, dragging them over his spot, and Harry’s hips grind down against his hand to chase the feeling. “Lou,” he says, his voice broken, and he doesn’t even finish his warning before come is shooting out of his dick and filling Louis’ mouth with the bittersweet liquid. Louis keeps moving his finger over Harry’s prostate, practically milking him as he swallows down Harry’s come, working Harry over until there is nothing left and finally, Louis pulls off. He gently pulls out his fingers and Harry slides down the wall and nearly knocks Louis over as he collapses against him.

Louis sits back on his arse and leans against the bench seat, his legs splayed out before him on the slick slate tile and Harry cradled in his arms, both their chests rising and falling in rapid succession. They’re both quiet for a minute as they try to regain their composure and Harry comes down from his orgasm, the only sound the cascading water flowing through the showerhead and their heavy breaths. Harry curls into Louis, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing his shoulder where he rests his head.

“Louis,” he whispers, his voice deep and broken,“nobody has ever made me feel like that before, that was so… so intense. So incredible, Lou.” Louis smiles and kisses the top of Harry’s head, but quickly lets out a gasp when he feels Harry’s hand curl around his hard cock. “You didn’t even touch yourself, Louis. You gave me everything,” Harry whispers and he starts to slowly stroke his hand up and down.

“Harry,” Louis groans as Harry starts to expertly twist his hand, squeezing slightly on the upstroke and then gliding his fingertip over Louis’ slit before sliding his hand back down Louis’ shaft. The movement of his hand is perfect, he applies just the right pressure and his touch makes Louis’ body tingle all over. Louis didn’t even realize how desperately he needed this, how badly he needed to be touched because he was so focused on pleasuring Harry. Now Harry is cradled against his chest, fully sated and snuggled so close against Louis that it’s like their bodies are almost one. Harry gives Louis his full attention, but their spent bodies barely move, save for the rhythmic push and pull of Harry’s hand up and down Louis’ shaft.

Harry lifts his head and presses his mouth against Louis’ and the kiss is soft and tender and when Harry licks his tongue into Louis’ mouth, Louis just moans; he’s so in love his heart hurts. Harry keeps kissing him and working his hand and before long, Louis is slowly circling his hips upwards, chasing Harry’s touch with every stroke, his body moving in time to the waves of pleasure washing over him.

“Come for me, baby,” Harry whispers and Louis immediately feels his dick get harder, feels the pull in his groin, knows he’s about to go over the edge. Harry kisses the tender spot below Louis’ ear, drags his lips along his jaw, and then kisses the corner of his mouth whispering, “I love you, Louis.”

Those four words are all it takes and Louis comes, his orgasm shooting ribbons that splatter on both his and Harry’s chests. Harry continues to pull him through until Louis is completely empty, all the while telling him how much he loves him.

After, the two sit there in comfortable silence, unmoving and just holding each other while Louis catches his breath and tries to come down. Finally, Harry stands and he pulls Louis up with him so they can clean the come and lube off their bodies and finish getting ready for their day. They’re both utterly exhausted; the lack of sleep coupled with their heavy conversation and sexual activity having finally caught up to them and rendered them practically catatonic.

They step out of the shower and Harry immediately grabs a towel, wrapping it behind Louis’ waist and using the ends to pull Louis toward him and into a tight hug. Louis rests his head on Harry’s chest and Harry slowly rocks their bodies side-to-side as he pats dry Louis’ back and shoulders. Louis’ sure it’s been a half an hour since Donald left and he’s just about to say as much when there’s a knock at the door, heralding the arrival of their breakfast.

“I wish we could stay in bed together all day today,” Harry whispers and Louis smiles against his chest. “How are we even going to make it through our Reviews, Louis? I’m so bloody tired.” Louis’ body instantly tenses. _The Review_. The fucking Review. Louis had allowed himself to forget about it for a little while, but now that Harry has mentioned it, he can’t help but feel the dread creep in at the thought of what kind of blunder in the life of Louis Tomlinson will be featured today. Now that he has Harry, he fully realizes the enormity of this whole thing and he absolutely has to prove he’s worthy of the next realm; he just has to move forward because the thought of being separated from Harry is too much to bear.

Harry must sense Louis’ apprehension, can already read him so well that he knows what he is thinking, and he pulls back and looks Louis in the eyes, his voice confident and strong as he says, “We’re moving forward together, Louis.”

“We’re moving forward together,” Louis repeats and nods his head in agreement.

There is another knock on the door and Harry quickly wraps a towel around his waist. “We better get that,” he says with a smile. He grabs Louis’ robe off the bathroom door and holds it open so Louis can slide his arms into it and then Harry closes the robe and ties the belt around Louis’ waist, kissing him on the nose for good measure. Despite the heavy feeling blooming in his chest at the thought of failing his Review, Louis’ mouth turns up into a genuine smile because Harry is just so lovely and he makes him so happy. Harry grabs Louis’ hand and pulls him out of the en suite and shouts, “We’re coming!” to the person on the other side of the hotel room door. As he reaches for the handle he turns back to Louis and states emphatically, “We’re moving forward together, Louis. I just know we’re both going to have a great day.”

“I love you,” Louis replies and Harry grins and Louis feels such a sudden, intense burst of longing for him that it’s almost hard to breathe. Harry is standing right beside him and holding his hand and yet all Louis can think about is how badly it would hurt to have to walk away from him. He watches as Harry answers the door and apologizes profusely to the bellhop for the delay and then Harry wheels their breakfast cart into the room.

Louis bites his lip and paints on a smile as he follows Harry down the little hallway and into the sitting area. They spread out their breakfast dishes on the coffee table and pour cups of tea before sitting next to each other on the sofa. As they eat, Louis teases Harry as he moans over the perfection of the banana pancakes, but Louis makes just as big of a fuss over the spinach and cheese omelets, and they both marvel over the heaping piles of crispy bacon, and buttered toast. They laugh and kiss and generally fawn over each other while they eat breakfast and then afterwards they stand next to each other at the bathroom sink, brushing their teeth and fixing their hair. They get dressed and surprisingly are ready to leave their room right on time and as they step out into the hallway and head toward the lifts, Louis squeezes Harry’s hand and silently tries to clear his brain of the one thought that keeps hammering through his head.

_What if I get sent back?_

 

 

 


	11. Half Day

Louis and Harry leave The Regency right on schedule and board one of the green trams that are waiting out front to transport the assembled Intakes to the Review Center. The tram is still mostly empty when they climb on board and they take a seat near the back, Harry holding Louis’ right hand in his lap and gently rubbing his thumb back and forth along Louis’ knuckles. As the tram begins to fill with passengers, Louis starts to feel some of the anxiety that has been haunting him all morning begin to dissipate and he decides right then and there that this is only the second day of his Review and he can’t allow his attitude to be so negative. Harry is absolutely convinced they are going to move forward together and Louis decides to give himself a bit of a break and believe it too; it’s certainly not going to help him impress the justices if he is mired in self-doubt. Louis knows that he needs to be focused and confident so that he can handle any curve balls Ileana throws at him during his sessions and most of all, he needs to believe that he is going to move forward because he loves Harry more than he’s ever loved anyone or anything and the thought of being separated from him is simply unacceptable. He takes his free hand and rests it on Harry’s forearm and Harry smiles at him and then begins to speak.

“When I was in primary, I could sometimes convince my mum to let me spend the night over at Niall’s on a school night,” Harry tells Louis and his voice is a bit conspiratorial, like he’s sharing a great secret. “He didn’t live within walking distance from the school like I did, so we would ride his school bus together in the morning and I always thought it was so cool: staying over at his house even though we both had class the next day and then riding the bus in with my best mate. It almost felt like we were getting away with something, you know?” He scoots in close to Louis and bites his lip, raising his eyebrow suggestively and his voice is low and deep when he adds, “I kind of have that feeling right now. Like we’re getting away with something.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, a sly smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

Harry presses a kiss to Louis’ lips, completely unbothered by the passengers filing by. “Yeah,” he answers softly.

Louis leans in and says under his breath, loud enough for only Harry to hear, “Tell me, Harry, when you had your school-night sleepovers with Niall, did he ever make you come by sucking your cock while he worked three fingers in your arse?”

Harry barks a loud, shocked laugh, startling a passenger seated a couple of rows in front of them, the woman turning around and shooting Harry a disdainful look. Harry blushes profusely and holds up his hands in apology, Louis chuckling the whole while.

“Louis!” Harry chastises.

“Seriously, Harold. Is this is how you behaved on the school bus with Niall?” Louis teases. “You are a naughty boy, aren’t you?”

“Stop,” Harry giggles and then whispers under his breath, “you’re going to make me hard and in answer to your question, ‘No’. Niall was as straight as the day is long. Besides, my cock and arse belong only to you, Louis.”

“Shit, Haz,” Louis mutters, his body suddenly feeling the heat of desire. Harry just looks at him and smirks in response.

Just then, Margaret and Rowan enter the tram, followed closely behind by Peter. Louis waves to them and tells Harry how he knows them: that they all traveled together from Intake on the same tram and that they were all assigned to the same floor of The Regency. Margaret and Rowan take the seat directly in front of Louis and Harry, and Peter sits in the open seat beside them, across the aisle. Louis introduces the three of them to Harry while the last few passengers straggle aboard and fill in the remaining empty seats around them, and then the tram pulls out of The Regency driveway for the short journey to the Review Center.

As the tram starts moving, Rowan turns around fully in his seat and looks back and forth between Louis and Harry and then his eyes fall on their entwined hands. Louis’ cheeks flush, and for a moment he’s awash in that old anxiety he used to have in the early days after he first came out, when he was constantly worried he would be judged or looked down upon for his sexuality.

 _Nothing like the Afterlife to bring up all the old insecurities_ , he thinks to himself and then he squeezes Harry’s hand, seeking some sort of anchor.

Rowan, as it turns out, couldn’t care less that Louis is holding hands with another man, because he has bigger questions on his mind. He pulls out an apple that he must have brought from the hotel and takes a large bite before pointing his finger at Harry and asking, “How many days you looking at, lad?”

“Um, days?” Harry replies, confused.

“Yeah, you know, during your Review. How many days of your life are they showing?”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” Harry answers, recognition dawning on his face. “Um. I think my advocate said we were looking at four.”

“Four!” Louis and Rowan exclaim simultaneously.

“Yeah, four. Is that bad?” Harry asks and he looks at Louis, whose mouth is hanging open in disbelief.

 _Four days_. Harry’s Review Board is only looking at _four_ days in Harry’s entire life and Louis’ Board has already viewed two during the first day of his Review alone. _Shit. Shit. Shit,_ Louis thinks because he has only just started to let go of the worry about moving forward and now he feels it creeping back in again and it’s not at all fair to Harry to keep comparing their situations. Every life is different and Louis knows that he will be judged on his own merits and all he can do is be grateful that Harry is not enduring a difficult Review. _We’re moving forward together_ , he tells himself and he takes a deep breath and wills his body to relax.

Harry must sense Louis’ internal conflict because he repeats the question, his voice nervous when he asks, “Four days. Is that bad, Lou?”

 _Shit_. The last thing Louis ever wants to do is make Harry worry, especially when it appears that he has absolutely nothing to worry about. Louis opens his mouth to speak, to tell him as much, when Rowan beats him to the punch.

“Mate, if I was only looking at four days I would be the happiest man in the universe right now. Four days is nothing! Hell, you’ve even got Peter beat,” and he points his thumb at Peter, who shrugs his shoulders, amused. Rowan takes another loud bite out of his apple. “I’m surprised they’re even making you go through a Review,” he says as he chews on the fruit. “They ought just put you up on one of those fancy trains that takes the new Residents to the next realm and let you be on your way.”

Harry breathes a sigh of relief but he still looks to Louis for confirmation. Louis pulls Harry’s hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss to his palm. “You’re in a wonderful position, darling. You’ve nothing to be worried about.”

“Hey,” Rowan says and then points his half-eaten apple at Louis. “Did you ever find out from your advocate how many days you’re looking at, Louis?”

Louis shakes his head. “Um. I asked him, but he told me that he doesn’t like for his clients to get too caught up in the numbers; he said that the amount of days we look at doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things.”

Harry squeezes Louis’ hand at the realization of why Louis _really_ reacted how he did when Harry mentioned his number of days. “If Marcus told you that it doesn’t matter, then it’s true, Louis. The number of days don’t matter and there’s nothing to worry about,” Harry states emphatically. He leans closer to Louis, his eyes wide and his expression open. “Remember what we talked about,” and Louis knows what Harry is referring to, can practically read it in his eyes: _We’re moving forward together_. Louis nods in understanding and Harry offers him the sweetest smile and for a moment, they are completely lost in each other, everything else disappearing around them.

“Did you two know each other on Earth, dear?” Margaret asks, interrupting the moment with her kind voice.

“Oh, um. No. We met here, on our first day,” Louis answers and he can feel the familiar flush return to his cheeks. Harry ducks his head and grins.

“You met here?” Rowan asks, incredulous. “Well then, do you mind telling me what you’re doing right, Louis? We’ve only been here four days and in that time I’ve gone to a lot of great restaurants, eaten a ton of amazing food, and last night I actually saw _the_ Elvis Presley perform in concert, but I would trade that all of that in a single heartbeat to have someone look at me all adorable and fond the way you two keep looking at each other.”

“Rowan!” Margaret admonishes. “Leave them be.”

“We’re just really happy to have found each other,” Harry says shyly and Louis wants to kiss him all over his face, but he limits himself to grazing his fingertips over Harry’s hand.

Rowan snorts, his voice teasing when he says, “I bet you are, lad.”

The tram makes its first stop and in the commotion of passengers getting on and off the conversation shifts to all of the amenities of Judgment City. Louis tells the others about the pitches at Shepherdshire and Peter comments that he might check it out that afternoon. Louis is thoroughly impressed when Peter shares that he coached a pub team for many years, Rowan interjecting that he’s more of a fan of golf and Harry excitedly responding that playing golf was one of his favorite pastimes on Earth. Louis knows he must be in love because he thinks golf is literally the worst, and yet he finds the thought of Harry in tight golf pants swinging a club in the middle of a sand trap to be utterly endearing and more than a little sexy. Margaret comments that she’s spent most of her free time visiting the city’s different health spas, exclaiming that the mud bath she took yesterday was the most relaxing experience she’s ever had.

Finally, the tram pulls into the Review Center and they all disembark and wish each other good luck for the day’s Reviews. Louis and Harry lazily swing their joined hands as they walk into the Center together and then they stop and say hello to Ed, who stands in the middle of the main atrium, iPad in hand as he helps direct new arrivals to their Review Rooms.

“You should have seen how brilliant Louis played last night, Harry,” Ed enthusiastically exclaims. “Scored the winning goal and was the star of the match, weren’t you, Tommo?”

 _Tommo_. Louis hasn’t heard that particular moniker since he saw Liam on his last day of life on Earth, and hearing it now is both lovely and bittersweet; but while Louis endures a brief pang of sadness for his best friend, the rush of love he feels for him far overpowers the sorrow.

“You didn’t tell me you scored the winning goal, Lou,” Harry says, his voice full of pride.

“Was no big deal,” Louis answers and looks down at the floor, embarrassed by the attention.

“No big deal? It was a bloody huge deal, Harry! Louis hit a header right into the net! It was fucking fantastic. Just… amazing, really.”

Ed slaps Louis on the back and Louis smiles and allows himself to enjoy the praise. “Well, it was a lot of fun. I don’t think I ever played that well on Earth. Must have been that ridiculous uniform or summat.”

“Oh god, that fucking uniform,” Harry practically growls, rolling his head skyward at the memory of Louis in his tiny kit. Louis and Ed both look at him in surprise, a slight smile playing on Louis’ lips. Harry blushes and clears his throat. “Um… I mean… Y-you said that uniform was really comfortable, yeah, Lou?”

Louis grins knowingly. “Yeah, it was really comfortable, Harry.”

Ed looks between Louis and Harry, fighting a grin of his own but does not comment, returning his attention to his iPad instead. “You blokes better get going; looks like you’ve got fifteen minutes until the start of your Reviews.”

“See you in the lift, later, mate?” Louis asks and Ed laughs.

“Yeah, I’ll be looking out for you two.”

The two bid their farewells to Ed and make their way to the bank of lifts and while they’re waiting for a car to arrive, Louis leans in, smiling mischievously at Harry. “I might have a little bit of surprise for you later this evening.”

“Yeah? What kind of surprise, Louis?” Harry asks and he reaches out his hand and brushes his fingertips down Louis’ neck, the touch shooting little sparkling trails of heat throughout Louis’ body.

“Well, it wouldn’t exactly be a surprise if I told you what it is, now would it, love?”

“Tease,” Harry pouts.

“You’ve no idea,” Louis answers and then slides his hand behind Harry’s back, reaching down and discreetly squeezing his bum.

The lift bell chimes and the doors open and Louis and Harry take a place along the back wall, a mixture of people dressed in tupas mingling with those dressed in business attire filling the car to capacity.

“I didn’t know you like playing golf, Haz,” Louis says as he intertwines their fingers.

“Yeah, I absolutely love it,” Harry answers. “Played nearly every Sunday when the weather would allow – if I was free, of course. Niall was absolutely mad over golf, so we joined a club just outside of the city and played together as often as we could.” Harry’s voice is wistful when he adds, “We always had so much fun.”

Louis turns to Harry, twisting one of his curls around his index finger and gliding his thumb over the tight spiral. “We still have so much to learn about each other, Harry. I can’t wait to know everything about you, but I also quite like these little discoveries.”

Harry nods his head enthusiastically. “Yes! Like, you know that I was a professor, but I still don’t even know what you did for a living, Lou.”

“I worked in advertising, Harry, which, by the way, is not even slightly as sexy as being a professor.” He leans in close so the others in the lift won’t hear. “When you told me what you did for a living this morning about ten thousand sexual fantasies came to life in my head and I almost came on the spot.”

“Louis!” Harry laughs. “I promise you, spending hours marking papers and lecturing disinterested students on the merits of the classics was hardly sexy. Trust me. However, the thought of you…” Harry draws in a deep breath, his eyes sparkling with desire, “The thought of you in a sharp business suit lording over an important meeting or whipping up some sort of advert… well, that’s downright…” he leans in and takes a sniff of Louis’ neck before finishing his thought, “intoxicating.”

The two gawk at each other for a moment, once again finding themselves completely alone even though they are surrounded by other people.

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis whispers.

“I can’t wait,” Harry drawls and then nuzzles his nose behind Louis’ ear, his breath hot on Louis’ neck. Louis feels absolutely dizzy with want.

The lift chimes and they arrive at the forty-sixth floor and both Louis and Harry have to take a moment to adjust themselves before they can even disembark the car, and when they finally step out into the hallway, they clutch hands, their affection for one another obvious to anyone who should take more than a passing glance. They stand in the hallway just outside their Review Rooms and Louis makes Harry promise to wait for him, should he get out early.

“Of course, Lou,” Harry says and then lays a soft kiss against Louis’ lips. “I’d wait for you until the end of time if I had to.” Louis just stands there and stares at Harry for a few beats because seriously, _fuck_.

“Love you,” Louis whispers.

“Love you back,” Harry answers, and then they reluctantly part and turn away from one another.

They are both just about to enter their respective Review Rooms when Harry turns around, Louis following suit. The two men stare into each other’s eyes for a moment before Harry’s plush pink lips turn up into a happy smile.

“And you smiled because you knew,” Louis whispers, his lips barely moving, once again repeating the words he muttered the very first time he saw Harry outside their advocates’ offices. Like the first time, Harry freezes in his steps, his face suddenly puzzled as he looks at Louis straight on, his mouth slightly ajar as if he is about to speak.

Just then, Sam approaches and clutches Harry’s elbow. “Harry!” she smiles happily, “so good to see you!” Harry smiles back at her and then looks toward Louis. Louis feels a moment of shock, wondering if Harry heard or even recognized his words, but he doesn’t have time to really think about it before Sam has tugged Harry into his Review Room, Harry giving Louis a quick wave goodbye before they’ve both disappeared from sight.

Louis will have to ponder the question later however, because he has his own Review to attend to. When he approaches his Review Room it’s nearly empty, save for Marcus who is sitting at the Advocate’s Table, rifling through some papers. Louis has not so much as stepped all the way through the door before Marcus slowly spins in his chair, his eyes landing on Louis.

“Well, well, well,” Marcus says, his voice teasing. “Will you look what the cat dragged in?”

“Oh, aren’t you the clever one, Mr. Forty-eight Percent,” Louis replies, and he tries to sound annoyed, but really, he enjoys this banter with Marcus, so he pulls out the empty chair beside him and plunks down in the seat. “How you doing, mate?” he asks with a grin.

Marcus tilts his head and looks Louis over. “I would say not half as well as you are, Louis. I’m guessing that you have officially declared your love to your boy?”

Louis feels that familiar heat spread across his cheeks and he averts his eyes for a moment before looking back at Marcus. “Yeah, it’s official, Marcus. I told him I loved him.”

“And?” Marcus prompts.

“And he loves me back. Actually, he told me first, so –”

“Ah-ha!” Marcus interjects. “I knew I liked your boy. He wastes no time going after what he wants. I respect that.” Louis and Marcus share a knowing smile and then Marcus’ face grows a bit more serious. “I’m really happy for you, Louis. What you and Harry have… Well, that doesn’t happen every day.”

“It’s really wonderful,” Louis agrees and then decides to lay himself completely bare. “I’ve never felt anything like this before. Like, even now, I know he’s sitting right next door in the very next room, but I miss him so much I can hardly take it.”

“Wow,” Marcus comments, tilting his head ever so slightly, “you’ve got it bad.” He draws in a breath and leans in a bit closer to Louis. “I think giving yourself over completely to another person is pretty much the greatest feeling there is, wouldn’t you agree, Louis?”

“Yeah,” Louis replies. “It’s just… _He’s_ just everything. Harry is literally everything I’ve ever wanted, Marcus. I can’t believe I even met him, much less get to love him.”

“Well, you know today is only a half day, right? Any thoughts on how you might like to spend it with Harry?”

“Oh, right! I forgot about that! So we only have the morning session, then?”

“Yes, you’ll be done at noon today. This evening there is something special scheduled, but you’ll have to wait until the justices get here to find out about that. But basically, your day will be wide open from noon until 8 PM, so you should think of some things you might like to do for entertainment.” Marcus smirks then, pointing to the love bite that is still visible on the side of Louis’ neck and adds, “Outside of your hotel room, I mean.” Louis rubs his hand over the tender spot, shaking his head in embarrassment and then an idea strikes him.

“Harry mentioned to me this morning how much he loves golf. Maybe I’ll try to arrange a golf game for us. That could be fun, don’t you think?”

Marcus nods and asks, “Are you a golfer, Louis?”

“No, I bloody hate golf,” Louis responds honestly.

“Damn. You are in love.” Marcus chuckles and then he suddenly claps his hands together, an idea striking him. “Listen, Louis, I think I might be able to do you one better. I have a friend who was a professional golfer in his day. He currently runs a golf course in Judgment City, Southeastern U.S., gives lessons, that sort of thing, and he’s in town for a few weeks running a golf clinic at one of our most popular courses. How about I give him a call and arrange a foursome this afternoon? He’s been pestering me to play with him since he’s arrived and I think it could be really fun.”

Louis eyes go wide. “Yes! That would be brilliant! Wow, Marcus, that’s really nice of you. Harry will be so excited. Thanks so much, mate.”

“Well, to be honest, I’m inviting you for selfish reasons,” Marcus says, and Louis raises his eyebrows in question. “Although I’m a fairly good golfer, I’ve never really taken to the sport. It will be nice having a friend there with me who is in the same boat and can commiserate.”

Louis looks down at his hands for a minute, humbled. Marcus just called Louis his friend and Louis feels genuinely touched. He raises his head and smiles. “Well, maybe we can sneak a few pints onto the green? I only golfed one time during my life and there was plenty of beer involved. It was the only thing that made the bloody game bearable.”

Marcus laughs and then holds up his fist and he and Louis fist bump. “Maybe we can sneak _off_ the green for a few pints in the clubhouse. I like my beer in a frosted glass.”

“I like that idea even better,” Louis exclaims. “But, Marcus, I don’t understand. If you don’t like golfing, why don’t you just tell your friend? Be honest with him?”

“Well, the thing is, golf is very important to him; it was how he made his living on Earth. When he passed over, I was still working in Judgment City, Northeastern U.S., and I was actually his advocate for his Review. We got on quite well and Payne promised that if he moved forward he would teach me to play, and he has, although, I find the game ridiculously boring.”

“Payne?” Louis asks, his voice suddenly animated, “Payne was my best mate, Liam’s surname.” He looks at Marcus, his eyes wide. “Do you think they might be related?”

“Oh, Louis, I’m so sorry,” Marcus responds, his voice sincere. “Payne is my friend’s _first_ name. His surname is Stewart. His name is Payne Stewart, maybe you’ve heard of him?”

Louis furrows his brows, “His name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t really place him.”

Marcus shakes his head. “If you can’t place the name _Payne Stewart_ , you clearly are not a fan of golf.”

Just then, Ileana walks into the room and Louis does not allow himself to feel nervous at her presence; instead, he smiles at her and offers her a friendly “Good morning.” Ileana looks at him curiously and then returns the sentiment before taking her seat behind the Delegate’s Table.

“Good for you!” Marcus says under his breath, his voice proud. “The fact that you’re not terrified of her is no doubt already throwing her off her game.”

“ _Dragon lady_ ,” Louis huffs, and rolls his eyes. “I’m ready for her.”

The three justices enter the Review Room then and Louis, Marcus, and Ileana stand out of respect. After the justices have all been seated, Chief Justice Wen pulls the microphone close and starts to speak.

“Today we begin day two in the Review of the life of Louis William Tomlinson. Before we get started, Mr. Tomlinson, will you take you place in the Screening Chair?”

Louis briefly looks at Marcus who nods slightly in reassurance and Louis gets up out of his seat and walks over and sits in the chair in the center of the room. The chair is facing the Justices’ Bench and once Louis is settled, Chief Justice Wen continues speaking. “Mr. Tomlinson, how are you feeling this morning?” she asks, and her expression is serious and one of genuine concern.

Louis takes a deep breath before answering, because he remembers that honesty is key in these proceedings. “I’m feeling good. A bit nervous, but I suppose that’s natural, yeah?”

The Chief Justice smiles, “It is indeed natural, Mr. Tomlinson. Let me ask you, has your advocate told you anything about Half Day?”

“Um. No… Other than the fact that we are only having one session and finishing early today, I’m not really sure what it’s about.”

“Well, Half Day, Mr. Tomlinson, is a very special day for Intakes, it’s a day when you have plenty of free time to explore our fine city and discover its many amenities, or if you prefer, you can simply relax and do nothing at all. We understand that the Review process is difficult, particularly as we tend to examine very emotional and challenging episodes from the Intake’s life on Earth, and that’s why Half Day is scheduled on the second day of each Intake’s Review. It’s a little break of sorts.” Louis nods his head and the Chief Justice presses on. “But the real treat of Half Day comes this evening, when you have the chance to examine your life in ways you’ve never imagined.”

Louis just stares at the Chief Justice, completely clueless as to what she’s talking about.

“Tonight, Mr. Tomlinson,” the Chief Justice continues, “you’ll have the option of viewing a retrospective of some of the different lives you’ve led prior to your current state by attending a _Past Lives Screening_ at the Past Lives Pavilion.”

Louis’ eyes go wide and his mouth drops open. “ _Past Lives Screening_ ,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would, but I’m more than happy to explain it to you, Mr. Tomlinson. The _Past Lives Screening_ is a five minute film montage which basically showcases you in some of your various Earthly forms.”

“Various forms? Um… are you saying that I wasn’t always… _human_ in my past lives?” Louis asks, his voice concerned.

“No, no!” the Chief Justice replies, her mouth turning up in a smile. “I’m sorry for the confusion. What I meant by ‘earthly forms’ is how your physical body appeared in your past lives. While you _were_ always human, you weren’t repeatedly born a white, male Englishman, Mr. Tomlinson. You’ve been many different races, had different places of birth, and you’ve lived as both a male and female during various phases of your existence.”

Louis’ feels a strange combination of nervousness, excitement, and panic swirling in his belly. He can’t even place a finger on what he is thinking because in all honesty, he really doesn’t know what to think at all. He remembers that Marcus told him he had lived before, nearly twenty times, in fact, but he never considered that in any of those lifetimes he was anything but the _Louis_ that he is today. _A woman?_ Louis contemplates, scratching his head. _A non-Brit!_ The thought of being a woman in a previous lifetime he can deal with, but the idea of not being British is somehow terribly upsetting to him. Not for the first time, Louis thinks how wrong all of those Sunday school lessons he sat through as a child turned out to be.

“The second option you have for this evening, Mr. Tomlinson, is a far more emotional experience than the first, and one available to only a very small percentage of Intakes.”

“Only a small percentage?” Louis repeats.

“Yes,” the Chief Justice answers, offering no further explanation as to why few Intakes have this choice. “Your second option for this evening’s activities, Mr. Tomlinson, takes place at the Future Exposition Center. This is an opportunity for you to pay a little visit of sorts with the people you cared most about on Earth via the _Five in Five_ video screening.

“ _Five in Five_ video?” Louis whispers, but really his brain is completely caught in the phrase, ‘the people you cared most about on Earth’ and suddenly images of his mum and siblings, Liam, and a smattering of other relatives and friends are flying through his head at rapid speed. He doesn’t even need to hear another word about the two choices, because he immediately knows that this is the option he will choose.

“The _Five in Five_ video is not for the weak-hearted, Mr. Tomlinson. You’ll be shown a five-minute film of your loved ones, with the clip taking place five years in the future after they’ve had time to properly respond to, grieve, and, as best as their ability will allow, _recover_ from your death. I know you get to see your loved ones in the Review clips, but the _Five in Five_ video is quite a different experience.”

“I pick that option!” Louis practically shouts, and all he can think about his how much he wants to see his mum’s face and to know that she is doing all right without him.

“Most people who are presented with the second option do indeed choose to take it, but you must know that this option is not without consequences. Tell me, Mr. Tomlinson,” the Chief Justice presses, “what do you feel when you think about your loved ones?”

“I feel love,” Louis answers immediately. “I feel love and I also just feel happy and warm.”

The Chief Justice nods, “Good. You don’t feel sad at all, do you?”

“Um, no, not really. I mean, I get little twinges of sadness now and again, but for the most part, I feel happy.”

“That’s exactly how you are supposed to feel, Mr. Tomlinson. You wouldn’t do very well with this entire experience if your mind was heavy with grief, now would you?”

“I don’t suppose I would,” Louis replies.

“I need to warn you now, that if you choose to visit the Future Exhibition Center, you _will_ feel grief, Mr. Tomlinson. You will suffer the same type of grief your loved ones are enduring right now at the loss of you.”

“Oh, shit,” Louis mutters, and suddenly he feels a bit nervous. “Does… does it last? I mean, last in the way grief lingers when you lose someone you love on Earth?” Louis’ mind immediately flashes to his Nan and how devastated he was when she died. He thinks about how the pain was so terribly heavy on his chest and how one minute he would be fine, and the next he would be hit with a wave of sadness so intense that he would have to sneak into the loo at work or pull over to the side of the road, just so he could have a cry. He can’t imagine how that grief would feel multiplied by the number of people he cares about who are currently struggling with his death on Earth. If he chooses this option, will his grief be all consuming? Will he even be able to endure the rest of his Review?

The Chief Justice looks Louis in the eyes and offers a soft smile and the small gesture instantly has a calming effect. “Do you know how you feel when you are watching the Review clips and you are suddenly flooded with emotions and then afterwards, you take a few deep breaths and the feelings dissipate, become less intense and less real?” Louis nods his head.

“The _Five in Five_ video experience is very much like participating in your screenings, Mr. Tomlinson. The emotions you undergo when watching the video are very intense, and far more so than anything you could experience during a Review. Many people are so overwhelmed that they walk out early, unable to stare so openly in the face of what they have left behind on Earth. It can be a very painful and heartbreaking experience.”

Louis just raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say a word. The Chief Justice continues, “The Exhibition Center has very comfortable recovery areas and most who view these videos need to spend some time there before they are even physically able to leave the building, but typically within an hour or two, the Intake starts to feel better and is able to let go of their grief. After that, they never really suffer that type of grief over their loved ones again, the sorrow over the separation once again replaced by love.” The Chief Justice pauses for a moment and looks carefully at Louis before continuing. “That’s the thing with life and death, Mr. Tomlinson, in the end, the love is all that remains.”

Louis stares at the Chief Justice, eyes wide as he tries to comprehend all that she has told him. She nods her head and offers him a kind smile. “Obviously, Mr. Tomlinson, you are free to choose whichever option you see fit, but I encourage you to give yourself a bit of time to think about your choices. It’s quite fun visiting one’s past lives, and you might find that that’s a more suitable choice for you.’

“I just really want to see my family,” Louis answers, his voice assured. “I choose the second option.”

“Very well, then. We’ll let your concierge know and he’ll be in charge of making all the arrangements.” The Chief Justice looks at Marcus and then to Ileana before once again returning her eyes to Louis. “Now then, with that settled, let’s begin the Review. Mr. Diamond, I believe you are scheduled to present first this morning?”

Marcus stands and walks around to the front of the Advocate’s Table. “Yes, your honor, I am. I’d like to pull up 17.9.23.” He looks to Ileana and adds cockily, “You’re in for quite a treat.”

Chief Justice Wen leans into the microphone. “Mr. Tomlinson, as a reminder, this means that we’ll be looking at the seventeenth year of your life, ninth month, twenty-third day. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your honor,” Louis answers, and the words have no sooner left his mouth before the lights dim in the Review Room and Louis’ chair rotates to face the viewing screen.

Before the image onscreen even appears, Louis hears the whirring sound of loud motors and the crunch of leaves and branches beneath the spinning tires of moving all-terrain vehicles and he is immediately immersed in the memory of a crisp fall day many years previous. The screen is suddenly filled with a long shot of woods, the woods of Crystal Brook Tourist Park to be exact, and Louis stares as the image pans across tall pine trees that filter the sun and then follows a manmade dirt path that snakes across the ground, its surface scattered with pine needles, patches of grass and twigs. Louis can practically feel the cool autumn air against his skin and can smell the embers of smoldering campfires in the distance. Just then, a teenage Liam and his girlfriend at the time, Danielle, zip across the frame on a bright red Honda four-wheeler, Danielle leaning against Liam’s back, her hands clutched tightly around his waist, her head thrown back in laughter. Seventeen-year-old Louis is following closely behind on a blue version of the same vehicle, but he rides alone, the grin on his face countering the way his body shifts uncomfortably on his seat.

Louis shakes his head at how young and carefree they all look as he thinks back to that long-ago weekend. The trip to Crystal Brook was supposed to be a couple’s weekend, Liam and Louis had been planning it for weeks, Liam exclaiming how amazing the rental cabins at Crystal Brook were and how perfect it was going to be to have an entire weekend where they could be alone with their girlfriends, exploring the woods by day, shagging their brains out at night. “The campgrounds are practically deserted this time of year, Louis,” Liam had exclaimed. “It’s gonna be bloody amazing!”

The fact of the matter was that Liam was desperate to have sex with Danielle in places other than the backseat of his car, and a weekend getaway – a trip that he had sold to his parents as a “boys only weekend” with his best mates – was the perfect place to achieve such a goal.

Louis had only had sex with Eleanor a handful of times at that point, and each time had been more hurried and anxiety-filled than the time before. He reasoned that his nerves were due to the fear of getting caught; intimacy at Louis’ house was simply out of the question because there were always far too many people around. Eleanor was an only child, yet her parents always seemed to be home and even when they weren’t, Louis was afraid they would show up unexpectedly and catch them in the act. To Eleanor’s frustration, Louis argued that having sex with her under her parent’s roof wasn’t worth the risk.

It’s not that Louis _disliked_ having sex with Eleanor. He was a virile young man with raging hormones after all, and it was _sex_ , and for the most part, sex felt good. The one thing Louis had zero desire to try however was to go down on Eleanor, despite her desperate pleas for oral pleasure. Louis felt pretty guilty about that one because Eleanor gave him head all the time and he knew he was being quite selfish in his failure to reciprocate. But just the thought of it… Well, Louis was decidedly not interested.

Still, the actual intercourse part was nice enough. Besides, if he closed his eyes and just concentrated on the feeling he could get through the other stuff Eleanor enjoyed, like when he touched her deep between her spread thighs, or softly kneaded her breasts before he fucked into her. But the problem was he was fairly certain that those aspects of sex weren’t something one was supposed to merely _get through_. In fact, touching the most private parts of his girlfriend’s body should have been something Louis _wanted_ to do all of the time and the things Louis didn’t particularly enjoy doing with Eleanor seemed to be the things his friends wanted to do with their girlfriends most of all. Eleanor was beautiful and sweet, and her body was simply lovely. Her breasts were small and pert, her waist narrow and her hips round; she looked gorgeous both in her clothes and out of them, and Louis knew that many of his mates envied him his relationship. Yet, when it came to anything beyond straight-on sex with his girlfriend, Louis really didn’t understand what all the fuss was about.

So Louis agreed to the weekend getaway with Liam, Danielle, and Eleanor, hoping against hope that it would somehow unlock the door inside of him that was holding him back and he would become just as lustful for his girlfriend as Liam was for his. Maybe being able to be intimate with Eleanor without restrictions and time limits would ignite a passion in him that could make him love her more and then he would want to do the things to her that she asked him to do. Maybe, just maybe, if all of that happened, Louis would no longer experience those little rushes of warmth and the butterflies in his tummy when he was with his friend Gareth from the football team: feelings that he could only admit to himself on the rarest occasion and if he was pissed drunk, felt almost akin to a _crush_. At the very least, getting out of Doncaster for a few days with a fresh change of scenery couldn’t hurt.

Eleanor wasn’t able to get anyone to cover her shift at the tea shop where she worked on the Friday afternoon they were to depart, so the plan was that Liam, Danielle and Louis would leave for the campgrounds immediately after school as planned, check in to the cabin, and set everything up, and then Eleanor would drive to Crystal Brook as soon as she got off work, hopefully bringing some booze she kipped from her parent’s overstocked liquor cabinet with her. Liam had just built a fire in the cabin’s fireplace, whispering in Louis’ ear a challenge to see who could “get in the most shags” with their girlfriend when Louis got a call from Eleanor, the reception in the woods so poor he could hardly make out what she was saying, but finally he was able to glean that she had left work early with the stomach flu and was too sick to make the drive to Crystal Brook. Louis didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved by the news, but Liam was definitely upset, groaning how it was going to be “bloody awkward” for him and Danielle to have a go if Louis was sitting in the next room by himself. Since they’d all ridden to the campsite together, Louis had no way of getting home and so he gave Liam a solemn promise to make himself as scarce as possible so Liam could enjoy as much “alone time” with Danielle as he desired.

When Saturday morning rolled around, Louis announced that he was going to rent a four-wheeler and explore the woods by himself, but much to Liam’s chagrin, Danielle insisted they join him, clearly oblivious to the fact that Louis was only going on the outing so that Liam and Danielle could have some privacy. So the three rented two ATVs and headed off on the path that led into the forest of trees, which is exactly where the clip currently being screened started.

The camera follows the two four-wheelers as they speed across the uneven terrain and head deeper into the woods, Liam shouting over his shoulder to Louis that he’ll never catch up to him, and Louis not really caring because he realized about two minutes into their trek that riding ATVs was definitely not something he particularly enjoyed. When they’ve traveled quite far from their original starting point, Liam slows his ATV to a stop, Louis following suit.

“We’re in pretty deep, Tommo,” Liam says, hopping off his four-wheeler and walking toward Louis. From his seat in the Screening Chair, Louis feels awash in love at seeing his best mate again and a huge smile spreads across his face, his eyes crinkling in delight. Liam looks so young, his hair a shaggy mess, blown every which way by the wind. He looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “We should probably head back to the cabin, I could definitely eat some lunch,” he says, patting his belly, “and it looks like there are clouds rolling in. We might get some rain.”

“I don’t want to get stuck in the rain!” Danielle shouts from where she is still perched on the back of the four-wheeler. She sits shaking her cell phone as if doing so will somehow magically provide her the reception that is completely lacking this deep in the wilderness. “Let’s go back!”

“Listen,” Louis offers loud enough for Danielle to hear. He winks at Liam. “I think I’d like to explore the woods a bit more. Why don’t you two go back and I’ll meet up with you in an hour or so.” Liam’s face bursts into a wide grin and he mouths, “Thanks, Tommo” at Louis, Louis nodding his head slightly in return.

Danielle hops off the four-wheeler and walks over to them. “That seems kind of dangerous, Louis. What if you get lost, or hurt, or something? You’ll be all alone in the middle of nowhere, and trust me, you won’t get any reception with your cell, I’ve already tried and can’t get so much as a single bar.”

“I’ll be fine, Dani,” Louis answers. “I don’t think I’ll get lost considering there’s a clear trail on the ground and markers on the trees.” He then cocks his hip and teasingly adds, “Besides, I could use a break from you two.”

Danielle is obviously concerned that leaving Louis out in the woods by himself is not a good idea, but somehow, he and Liam manage to talk her into it and before long, she and Liam are hopping back on their ATV and turning the vehicle around to head back toward the cabin, Liam shouting “I love you!” as he rides by.

As he watches Liam and Danielle disappear into the distance, Louis feels his body tense as he sits in the Screening Chair because he knows what is going to happen next. The Louis onscreen climbs back onto his ATV, starting the vehicle’s engine with a stutter and then directing the four-wheeler further up the trail. He hasn’t gone too far when the clouds start to get heavier in the sky, casting Louis’ surroundings in ominous darkness and making the path ahead more difficult to see. Louis slows down then and decides to turn around, figuring he’ll head back and just drop the ATV off at the rental place and hang out in the little snack stand adjacent to the rental shop in order to give Liam and Danielle some time alone.

Just then, the film zooms in on a thick, spindly log that juts out into the path directly in front of Louis’ approaching ATV. Louis cringes when he sees it because he remembers that his seventeen-year-old self didn’t see that log until it was much too late. Louis feels his shoulders stiffen and anxiety pulls in his stomach as he watches his younger self navigate the ATV onscreen, the Louis in the clip completely unaware of the approaching hazard. Then it happens, so fast that it almost seems unreal: the front tires of the four-wheeler hit the protruding log, causing the entire front end of the vehicle to suddenly jackknife off the ground until it stands vertical. Louis’ body is slingshot out of his seat and he flies over the ATV’s handlebars and crashes onto the ground behind the very end of the offending log, save for his left ankle, which hits the log straight on with a loud, sickening crunch.

Watching the clip of the crash, Louis feels a sharp pain shoot up his left ankle, the pain less severe than when the injury actually occurred, but still strong enough to remind him of how he felt that day.

Louis’ teenage self lies helpless on the ground, the air punched out of his lungs on impact and his whole being momentarily stunned by the force of his landing. But then Louis is able to finally choke out a breath and it’s like doing so flips a switch in his body and the pain is turned on full force and he cries out in agony. He sits writhing on the ground, howling in pain, when he becomes aware of the rumbling vibrations of the ATV’s engine. Louis looks up just in time to see the vehicle begin to totter. With a rush of adrenaline, he uses his arms to push his body backwards and out of the way just before the vehicle crashes to the ground, mere inches from his broken and twisted foot.

The four-wheeler sits upside down, rocking back and forth before settling, the front end of the vehicle pressed against the backside of the log and the rear of the vehicle resting in a pile of leaves. The engine slows and eventually putters out; all the while Louis sits frozen in shock, his breathing rapid and his face contorted in pain until finally he comes to his senses.

He frantically looks around then, assessing his surroundings before digging his cell phone out of his pocket with shaking hands and tapping out a few numbers, but Danielle was right, there is absolutely no signal to be had and so Louis puts his phone away, knowing it will be of no use. He cries out then, screaming repeatedly for help, but the Louis watching the scene unfold from the Screening Chair remembers that he knew at the time that screaming for help was just as futile as attempting to use his cell phone. He was nearly three kilometers deep in the woods; there was nobody to hear his call.

Louis shudders as he watches his younger self scoot on his bum toward the ATV, pushing against the vehicle with all of his might in an attempt to flip it back upright, his hands shaking and pain written all over his face. The camera zooms in then on Louis’ foot, which is bent grotesquely sideways and is crookedly angled over the dirt path. Louis’ ankle has already turned a deep purplish blue color and has swollen over the top of his Adidas trainer to nearly three times its size. His flesh is punctured and a tiny portion of splintered bone pokes out of his skin.

Without even realizing what he is doing, the Louis sitting in the Screening Chair raises his left ankle and crosses it over his knee and begins to gently rub it with his right hand, soothing the dull, throbbing pain he feels while watching the clip. As he continues to stare at the screen, Louis feels bile curdle in his stomach and his body starts to shiver, just like it did in that moment when he was alone and helpless in the middle of Crystal Brook woods.

Despite Louis’ best efforts, there was simply no way he could flip the heavy ATV back onto its tires, particularly considering that he was trying to do so while sitting on the ground, his body weak and wracked with pain. For a moment, the Louis onscreen just flops over in defeat, the pain so unbearable that he is completely lightheaded and on the verge of passing out.

But then, something inside of him stirs and Louis watches in amazement as his younger self suddenly places his palms flat on the ground on either side of his waist and pushes his body up, reaching over to the trunk of a tree for leverage and then slowly pulling his upper body upwards so that he’s resting his weight on his right knee. He sits there hugging the tree for a few agonizing seconds, and then takes a deep breath to steady himself before carefully shimmying his hands up the tree trunk and using the trunk to hoist himself into the standing position. As he does so, his broken foot drags on the ground and Louis screams out in agony, the sound deep and primal and one that Louis never imagined he would ever hear again. He quickly raises his left leg so that his shattered appendage is off the ground, the pain caused by this simple shift in position written all over his face. Louis reaches out then for the tree that is directly in front of him and hops forward on his right leg, taking two quick jumps and then reaching out to grab the tree, holding onto it for dear life as his body tries to recover from the jarring motion.

Louis shakes his head in disbelief as he watches his younger self repeat the process, hopping a few paces to the next closest tree and then collapsing into it as he tries to catch his breath, the pain from his broken and battered ankle making him physically ill. Several of his stops are punctuated with him doubled over and vomiting a combination of thick yellow bile and the minced remnants of his breakfast onto the ground below. As he views the younger version of himself onscreen, Louis wonders how he was even able to keep moving.

The film follows Louis for several minutes as he slowly navigates the trail in the direction he originally came, every half meter or so his body slamming into another tree and Louis crying out in agony as he tries to gather strength before continuing along. The clip then fades out for a moment before again coming into focus with a shot of Louis from behind, his body cast in shadow by a blackened sky and then illuminated by flashes of lightning. The sky is crackling with thunder and a steady rain is falling. Louis’ body is drenched both in rain and sweat and the camera zooms in to reveal that all color is drained from his skin, his eyes hollow and sunken. He’s only twenty meters or so from the entrance to the ATV trail, and he’s barely able to hold himself upright. Just then, two round headlights emerge in the distance, the lights getting larger and brighter as they approach Louis’ withering form. The shot zooms in and reveals a four-wheeler, driven by a member of the campsite security team with Liam perched on the seat behind him. The Louis onscreen doesn’t move; he just lets out a low cry of relief and then immediately drops down to the ground, passing out in the bramble on the side of the trail. The clip then fades completely to black, the lights go up in the Review Room and Louis’ chair rotates so he is once again facing the justices.

Louis continues to absentmindedly rub his ankle as Marcus gets up out of his chair and walks over to him. This clip was certainly different from those screened during the first day of Louis’ Review; the clips shown yesterday elicited a deep, emotional reaction in Louis, while today’s clip has a more physical effect. Louis draws in a practiced deep breath to relieve some of the tension of the moment. While he does feel some of the lingering panic of being stranded in the wilderness with a badly broken limb, what Louis is mostly experiencing is the intense sensation of being physically drained and weak, his head dizzy and spinning in the same manner it did all those years ago when he struggled to make his way out of the woods by taking shallow hops from tree to tree. Not to mention the fact that his ankle really hurts, it’s starting to throb and burn actually, and Louis isn’t even aware he’s been massaging it until Marcus points to Louis’ foot and asks him if he’s feeling okay.

“My ankle really hurts,” Louis answers and then draws in another deep breath. As he does so, the pain in his ankle begins to slowly dissipate and so he takes in another breath: in through the nose and out through the mouth. Marcus nods his head for Louis to continue his breathing exercise and after a few more breaths, the pain finally subsides completely and Louis is able to release his foot from his massaging grip and place it back on the ground.

“Are you feeling better now, Louis?” Marcus asks, his voice serious.

“Yeah, that was just… intense, you know?” Louis replies.

Marcus nods his head in understanding and then begins to speak. “Louis, would you please tell the Review Room what you were feeling when your four-wheeler crashed that day in the woods?”

“Outside of the pain of my broken ankle, you mean?” Louis replies, uncertain if Marcus wants him to discuss his physical or emotional state at the time of the accident.

“We’ll get back to your injury in a moment, Louis, but for now, what was your immediate emotional response to crashing the vehicle?”

“I guess I was panicked… Panicked and… more than a little scared,” Louis answers and then cringes, having admitted his fear in front of Ileana and the justices.

“What were you afraid of, Louis?”

Louis draws in a breath and pauses for a moment before answering, fully contemplating the question. “I know this will sound melodramatic, but I guess I was afraid of not making it back to the campsite alive. I was so disoriented and in so much pain that I could hardly see straight and it honestly felt like all my strength was drained out of my body. With every fiber of my being I just wanted to lay down on the ground and go to sleep, but I knew that if I did that I would be putting myself at peril. Those woods were huge and there were wolves and snakes and other predators that resided there. I just felt very vulnerable and so very tired, but I knew I had to get myself to safety; I knew I needed help.”

“You had to get out of there,” Marcus says, his voice resonating throughout the Review Room. “So you did the only thing you could do, Louis; you stood yourself upright and you forced yourself to make it out of those woods.”

“I did. My ankle was very badly broken and I was just dizzy with pain, but I knew to keep close to the trail and so that was what I focused on. I couldn’t risk getting lost.”

“You broke your ankle in two places, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Louis answers. “I had an open and compound fracture, both the talus and calcaneus bones of the ankle were shattered and the talus bone,” Louis points to the top of his left foot, “was what was actually protruding through the skin.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “The pain… well, it’s utterly indescribable.” When he thinks about what he went through, Louis feels quite proud of himself for being able to get out of the woods on his own, considering the extent of his injury.

As if he’s read Louis’ mind, Marcus comments, “I’m proud of you, Louis.” He then turns to the Justices, giving Ileana barely a passing glance before continuing, his arms outstretched dramatically, “Louis Tomlinson hopped on one foot, his other foot left literally shattered with bone piercing through the skin, and he did this for nearly three kilometers: two point eight-nine kilometers, to be exact. He was sick with pain, he was weak, but he persevered, his resilience stronger than his own body’s urge to resist his movements.” Marcus turns to Louis. “Louis, do you have any idea how long it took you hop out of those woods?” and he bounces his hand like a bunny hopping across a field of grass and Louis can’t help but duck his head to suppress a giggle because Marcus bringing on the dramatics is truly a sight to behold.

“Um. I think it took me a couple hours. Liam thought I was just giving him the afternoon to spend alone with his girl, so I know it was quite a long time before they got worried and actually came looking for me.”

“It took you over five hours, Louis,” Marcus replies and then again turns to the justices. “For five long hours Louis endured excruciating pain and struggled to maintain consciousness as he bravely fought for his very life. It would have been quite easy for Louis to lie down and succumb; he was exhausted and barely functioning after the first five _minutes_ , but he pressed forward. He overcame his fear of pain, of being stranded in the wilderness, and even his fear of death, and he came out of those woods victorious.”

Marcus walks over to Louis then, placing his hand on Louis’ shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze and then he looks to the justices. “If you take nothing else from this Review, I humbly ask your honors to keep in mind today’s clip. Remember the way that Louis bravely prevailed on that day. Let the image of him slowly making his way on one foot through a dense forest, his body wracked in agony, remind you that he is _worthy_. Louis Tomlinson is worthy of moving forward and his strength and character will prove a true benefit to the universe as a whole.” Marcus looks to Ileana then before adding, “I have nothing further.”

Louis looks at the justices, but their expressions are completely unreadable. Marcus nods to Louis and returns to his seat and Ileana gets up out of hers, walking over to Louis and wasting no time before she speaks.

“I can’t believe what we just witnessed,” she says, her tone careful, just the hint of condescension resonating beneath its surface. “What Mr. Diamond has just done,” she raises her left eyebrow and turns to face Marcus, “brilliantly by the way, I might add, is to conflate survival with bravery. Louis Tomlinson possessed basic human survival instincts and those came into play when he found himself stranded in the woods with a broken ankle. But let me be clear, he didn’t overcome _fear_ by hopping out of those woods on one foot,” Ileana raises her hand then, mimicking Marcus’ earlier rabbit gesture, “and he certainly didn’t take any risks. What Louis Tomlinson did on that day in the wilderness was what any human in his situation would have done; he saved his own life.”

Louis shifts in his seat and for the briefest of moments he feels a shooting pain through his ankle. Ileana continues.

“Was it admirable that Louis got himself out of that terrible situation by forcing himself to navigate those woods while suffering a broken ankle?” She looks to Louis and nods her head. “Of course it was. But that doesn’t mean Louis overcame any kind of _fear_ and that certainly doesn’t mean he was especially brave. What it _does_ mean is that Louis Tomlinson possessed commendable survival instincts and nothing else. Mr. Diamond would have you believe that Louis was some kind of hero for what he did when he broke his ankle.” She pauses then, and her voice is a little less confrontational when she continues. “While there is little dispute that Louis suffered a terrible injury,” she says, turning to Louis and nodding her head in acknowledgement, “what that clip showed us was a man giving in to the most basic component of human nature: _self-preservation_ , and nothing more.”

Louis feels heat rush to his face but this time he is not flushing in embarrassment; rather, he feels quite agitated, angry even, and he’s surprised by the sound of his own voice when he speaks unsolicited. “I kind of resent your implication,” he says and Ileana turns to him, completely caught off guard.

She narrows her eyes and looks at him carefully. “What exactly do you resent, Louis?”

“Well, it’s like you’re trying to belittle what happened to me that day. I know you don’t think it was any big deal, but I _was_ afraid when I broke my ankle out there in the middle of the nowhere. I was alone and it was terrifying and I promise you, one of the worst things about it all was the anticipation of how much pain each one of those _hops_ forward was going to cause me,” and he makes the same hopping hand gesture as Ileana did and Marcus did before her. He tries to curb the sharpness in his voice, but is not wholly successful. “Moving my foot even the slightest bit was excruciating and every time I took a break between jumps I had to will myself onward all over again.” He looks over at Marcus, who nods his head proudly and then continues. “I could have sat by a tree and hoped someone would come and rescue me, but I knew that it was dangerous in those woods after dark and I knew that despite my injury, I had to get out of there. I don’t like that you’re trying to take that away from me.”

Ileana looks utterly shocked and stares at Louis, her surprise at his outburst clearly evident on her face. She draws in a deep breath and furrows her brows as if considering what to say next, and then the slightest smile passes over her lips and her expression goes neutral, her voice sincere when she says, “That was very well said, Louis. I’m actually glad you defended yourself just now; standing up for oneself is a sign of a strong character.” Louis feels a rush of relief, but it is short-lived when Ileana continues. “But despite your protests, my contention has not changed. You didn’t overcome fear on that day, Louis, what you overcame was pain. Those are two very different things.”

Louis can’t help but roll his head to the side in frustration. “And it’s my contention that I actually was _afraid of the pain_ , that it was absolutely ungodly, but I pushed through it anyway.”

Louis feels his muscles tense as he tries to control his anger; that day in the woods was a very big moment in his life and it seems that Ileana is trying to reduce what he went through to absolutely nothing of importance. When Louis was finally rescued he was taken to hospital and had to undergo two difficult surgeries, with five pins eventually employed to cobble his shattered ankle back together. After that, he was on crutches for months and missed the rest of the fall football season, his absence nearly costing him his promised position on his Uni team and forcing him to undergo grueling tryouts in the spring to save his spot: tryouts that took place when he was not fully recovered from his injury. It was an absolutely miserable experience from start to finish and he simply cannot allow Ileana to reduce his actions to nothing more than basic human instinct, in spite of the fact that for the briefest moment he finds himself considering her argument.

 _Dear God, she’s bloody good at her job_ , he begrudgingly thinks.

Ileana paces back and forth in front of Louis for a moment then faces him directly. “Louis, you returned to those woods the following spring with your friend Liam and a group of your mates from school, is that correct?”

“Yes,” he answers. “We were celebrating graduation.”

“I see,” Ileana replies and cocks her head to the side. “During that trip, did you and your friends engage in any planned… _activities_?”

“A few,” Louis answers. “We hiked some of the trails and swam in the lake, even though the water was absolutely freezing. But, for the most part we sat around the fireplace, swapped stories, and got drunk.” Louis chuckles, “It was a great weekend really, far better than my previous visit to Crystal Brook.”

“Were there any other activities your friends engaged in, Louis?” Ileana asks, her voice casual.

Louis looks Ileana straight in the eyes then and he can’t help but smile because he absolutely knows where she is going with this line of questioning and he knows what her argument will be before she even says another word. She looks at him curiously, trying to gage his reaction.

“You’re smiling, Louis. Is something funny?”

“Not exactly funny, per se, I just suspect that you’re about to bring up the fact that my mates rented four-wheelers and I refused to go with them, and I’m quite certain your argument is going to be that I wouldn’t ride them because I was afraid,” Louis shakes his head slightly from side to side and adds, “which couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Ileana’s mouth actually falls open at Louis’ proclamation and Louis can hear Marcus try to suppress a laugh from his place at the Advocate’s Table. He is only partially successful. For a moment, Ileana is completely taken aback, but then she smooths her hands over her skirt and takes a step closer to Louis. “But you never rode another four-wheeler again, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” Louis answers, his voice honest and sure. His mind briefly flickers on Harry and the way he returned to climb that beech tree again and again, despite the traumatic episode that occurred there, and he realizes that from someone like Ileana’s perspective the two incidences could be comparable, that one could possibly contend that Harry had conquered his fear while Louis had not. But in the case of the four-wheeler, such an assessment would be one hundred percent inaccurate and so before Ileana has a chance to continue, Louis once again speaks, this time directing his attention to the justices.

“I wasn’t afraid, your honors,” he says and then he looks back to Ileana. “I know that you believe that I wouldn’t get back on that ATV because I had some sort of deep-seeded fear. I know you do, and that’s what you’re about to argue, isn’t it?”

“Actually, Louis, I am. I have a clip that I’m prepared to show from 18.5.27 that I think will illustrate my point.”

“It’s from that trip, yeah?” Louis asks, and his voice sounds almost amused. “I imagine your clip will feature Liam and the rest of my mates begging me to go with them to rent those four-wheelers and explore the woods. Your clip will probably show my mate, Oli, arguing that I needed to face my fears and ride one of those awful things again or I would be scared of them for the rest of my life, and me steadfastly refusing to do so. I imagine your clip ends with me sitting alone in the cabin, playing FIFA while my best mates gleefully ride the trails of Crystal Brook, am I right?”

Ileana clears her throat and opens and closes her mouth, clearly at a loss for words, then let’s out a sigh. “Yes, that’s exactly the clip I was going to show, although I’m not sure doing so is really necessary now since you’ve already relayed its entire contents…” her voice trails off at the end and for a moment, she looks completely off her game. Louis can’t help but feel pleased with himself. “Well then, Louis, we’ll skip the clip. But answer me this, if you weren’t _afraid_ to ride the ATV again, what was your reasoning for staying indoors and missing out on the fun with your friends?”

“I hated it,” Louis states simply.

“You hated what?” Ileana asks, and she lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“I hated riding that thing.” Louis looks to the justices again and his voice is calm, sure and succinct as he continues speaking. “The fact that I never rode another four-wheeler again has nothing to do with fear, I can assure all of you. This is about hate.” He then laughs softly, looking at Ileana, “Have you ever ridden one of those things?”

“Um. No. I haven’t, but that’s not the point – ”

“They are terrible, awful machines, four-wheelers,” Louis responds, cutting her off. “I hated riding that thing from the get-go. Don’t know if I got a defective model or what, but the seat was directly above the engine and that engine was hot: ridiculously hot. Unbearably hot, even,” and he lifts his hands in emphasis.

“The engine was hot,” Ileana repeats and she looks both frustrated by Louis’ outburst, yet strangely interested in what he has to say.

“Yes!” Louis enthuses and briefly his Donny accent comes back in full force. “Felt like me thighs and arse were on fire, like the hair on me bum was being singed right off at the roots.” Justice Elliot barks out a loud laugh at Louis’ declaration and Justice Kelly joins in, laughing along with him. It’s obvious from looking at her that Chief Justice Wen is trying to control her own laughter, but then Louis catches her eyes and a soft chuckle passes over her lips. Louis feels utterly happy. Finally, there is laughter in _his_ Review Room and it’s music to his ears.

Ileana walks back to the Delegate’s Table for a moment and looks down at her notes before returning to Louis’ side. She schools her expression. “You honestly expect the justices in this Review Room to believe that the reason you never rode another four-wheeler again was because it,” and she makes air quotes, “‘singed the hair on your bum’?”

Once again, laughter fills the room, Ileana herself almost giving in to a slight smile at the absurdity of the statement. Outside of the time he’s spent with Harry, Louis doesn’t think he’s ever felt happier. It’s such a relief for things to be going so well.

“I do,” Louis answers, “because it’s the truth. He leans forward in his seat. “And I’ll tell you another thing about those bloody vehicles,” he says, and then cringes, realizing he’s just sworn before the justices. The Chief Justice seems to take it in stride and nods her head for him to continue and so he does. “Those machines are loud, very, very loud. I didn’t even realize how loud it was until I was about half way out of the woods and I noticed that everything was unbelievably muffled. I couldn’t properly hear the wind rustling in the trees or the leaves crunching beneath my feet… Erm… foot,” he amends. “Anyway, it was like I was in a silent film or summat, my ears were positively ringing.”

“I see,” Ileana says and her voice is rushed, like she wants to get this conversation over with. “That’s all very well, but –”

“I’m not finished,” Louis interjects, his voice confident.

“Of course, Louis,” Ileana replies, clearly agitated. “Please, continue.”

“The worst part was the vibrations. I mean, you wouldn’t think that a vibrating seat would be a bad thing, right?” Louis asks, thinking about the massage feature on his office chair, but then he realizes the double meaning of his question and ducks his head and blushes. Justice Elliot snickers and Louis can’t help but feel relieved. “I don’t mean to sound crass,” he continues, “but after I rode that thing I felt like my bullocks were positively scrambled. My arse felt like it was vibrating for days afterwards and even with all the pain meds I was taking for my foot, those vibrations just didn’t go away. I swear to everyone in this Review Room, we had barely even ridden into the woods that day before I promised myself that once we got back, I would never ride one of those things again and I stuck to my word. My refusal to ride with my mates the following spring had nothing to do with breaking my ankle. I just absolutely hated those four-wheelers with a passion.”

Louis turns his attention to the bench and all three of the justices are smiling and look amused. He looks over to Marcus whose face is positively beaming, while Ileana just looks irritated. She turns to the justices and sighs. “I have nothing further, your honors.”

Marcus stands and gives his rebuttal argument, reiterating the points Louis made about not being afraid of riding the four-wheeler and again detailing Louis’ bravery at making his way out of the woods in spite of his horrific injury. Ileana stands then and gives her counterargument, but considering Louis’ passionate reasoning on why he didn’t ride ATVs after his accident, her closing statement comes across as weak and she almost looks defeated when she finishes speaking. After she’s returned to her seat, the Chief Justice calls the end of the session, reminding everyone to be back in the Review Room the next morning at 9 AM sharp. Everyone stands and the three justices exit the room. Louis walks back over to the Advocate’s Table then and sits down beside Marcus. Ileana packs her notes in her briefcase and turns to exit the room, but before she does, she stops in front of Louis and offers him a genuine, albeit reserved smile.

“You did quite well today, Louis. You should be very proud.”

“Um, thank you,” Louis responds, once again taken aback by the way her kindness coincides with her maddening enthusiasm to send him back to Earth.

“We’re halfway through your proceedings,” Ileana continues and Louis’ eyes widen in surprise. “Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow will be a long day.” She looks at Marcus and the two stare at each other for a moment and then Ileana nods and exits the room.

Louis turns to Marcus immediately. “We’re halfway through, Marcus?” he asks, his voice unsure.

Marcus nods. “We are. The Reviews last four days, two full days, and two half days.”

“Shit,” Louis mumbles, suddenly feeling nervous. “Why didn’t you tell me that before? That’s not a lot of time to prove I’m worthy of the next realm.”

“I didn’t tell you the length of the Review because I didn’t think there was any reason to worry you.” Marcus shakes his head. “I swear, Intakes are always so caught up in numbers.” He lets out a heavy sigh, but then his eyes go wide and he smiles, pointing at Louis. “But speaking of numbers, even though I stand by my point that the number of days shown in a Review don’t matter, I will say that the way you undermined Ileana’s clip before she even got a chance to show it was genius! I can’t think of a single instance in all my years as an Advocate where an Intake managed to eliminate a day from their Review. That was brilliant, Louis.”

“Really?” Louis asks, excitement in his voice. “I meant what I said, Marcus. I wasn’t afraid to ride that bloody four-wheeler, I just wanted them all to know that.”

“You made your point, Louis,” Marcus answers and then he holds up his fist, which Louis bumps with his own.

“What did Ileana mean when she said tomorrow was going to be a long day, Marcus? Is she planning something worse than the first day of the Review, because I can’t imagine a longer, more exhausting day than that one.”

“The third day of Review is always quite difficult, Louis. We really get into the root of fear on that one, but I don’t want you to give tomorrow another thought right now, okay? You have a full free day ahead of you. Go and have lunch with your boy and then the two of you should probably go and take a nap before we golf; you look like you could really use some sleep and I’m sure he’s in the same condition.”

Louis looks down at his lap, trying to contain a smile. “We didn’t get much rest last night,” he whispers and then shrugs his shoulders. He clears his throat. “Um... So what time shall we play golf, then?”

Marcus looks at his watch, considering “Let’s see… It’s 11:45 now; let’s say we meet at the course at four o’clock. That will give you enough time to have lunch, have a rest and catch the tram to the green.”

“Okay, then,” Louis answers. “I can’t wait to tell Harry. Who are we playing with again?”

Marcus grins. “Payne Stewart, Louis. One of the greatest golfers you’ll ever meet.” He then laughs softly, “You really hate golf, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I love Harry, so it will be great fun.”

Marcus nods his head. “Alright, then. You get out of here and go take your boy to someplace nice for lunch. There’s a great Mexican restaurant two blocks north of the Review Center, you two should check it out. In the mean time, I’ll call Payne and have Rachel schedule our game. You can get all the details from Donald after you and Harry have,” and he raises his hands up to do air quotes, “‘napped’.”

The two say their goodbyes and Louis heads out into the hallway to meet up with Harry, who is already standing outside Louis’ Review Room door waiting for him.

“Hey, love,” Louis grins, and Harry pulls him into his arms, peppering a series of quick kisses along Louis’ cheek before making his way to his mouth.

“Louis,” Harry replies and squeezes Louis impossibly close, whispering in his ear, “I heard laughter coming through the walls that divide our rooms. What exactly is going on in your Review, Lou?” he teases, repeating Louis’ words from earlier in the day. Louis noses along Harry’s ear, his soft curls gently brushing over Louis’ cheeks. Louis can’t help but feel proud, the laughter a sure sign that his day went well.

“Oh, we were just talking about four-wheeling in the woods, no big deal,” Louis answers, “I’ll fill you in on all the details, I promise. But first, how was your day, did everything go alright?”

Harry’s face breaks out into a wide smile; his dimple popping on his cheek and Louis just has rub his thumb over it. “It was really great,” Harry says with a laugh. “It’s fun reliving some of those old memories, yeah?”

Louis thinks about the way his ankle throbbed while he watched the film clip of his ATV accident, but then he remembers seeing Liam’s smiling face and he can’t help but nod in agreement. “Yeah, it’s fun, love,” he says softly.

“So, what shall we do now?” Harry asks and then his eyes go wide. “Oh! We need to talk about tonight, Louis! I can’t wait for tonight,” then suddenly he drops his voice and tries to rein in his excitement. “Um, did you get two options for tonight, Lou?” he asks carefully.

“I did. I chose the _Five in Five_ video, I really want to see my family again.”

Harry’s face splits into another of his ridiculous grins. “Me too! I can’t wait to see my mum and Gems again. I just want to see how they’re doing, you know?” Louis nods his head because he knows exactly what Harry means. “I’m so excited you had both options, Louis. I knew you would,” Harry says, and his voice almost sounds relieved. “My Chief Justice told me that only a small percentage of Intakes get the second option.” He looks around and lowers his voice, “After my session ended, Sam told me that the second option is only available to those who are in a good position to move forward. We _both_ got that option, Louis. We’re moving forward together.”

“We’re moving forward together,” Louis repeats and it feels good to say those words and actually believe them. He takes Harry’s hand and the two walk over to the lift. “Marcus suggested a Mexican restaurant not too far from here and we could get some lunch and then go back to the hotel and maybe have a bit of a rest. I know we had tacos yesterday, so if you want to go someplace else –”

“I love Mexican food, Louis, I could eat it everyday. I don’t know if I told you, but I’ve always loved to cook. I made some mean tacos and fajitas in my day,” Harry says with a proud smile, and Louis immediately thinks about how sexy Harry must have looked sautéing vegetables over a flaming stovetop. Maybe he wore a funny apron over his clothes while he flipped sizzling meat on the grille. Maybe he just wore the funny apron and no clothing at all.

 _Jesus_.

The lift bell chimes and the two step into the car and without thought they both look up at the camera and smile and wave to Ed. “I also like the idea of catching a nap, Louis,” Harry continues happily. He slides his index finger beneath Louis’ belt and pulls him in a bit closer. “You really wore me out this morning.”

A woman dressed in a suit near the front of the lift clears her throat and Harry looks at Louis, his expression startled because neither of them even noticed when she stepped onto the lift behind them. Louis just shakes his head, Harry’s suggestive words mild in comparison to what they were doing in the lift the day before.

“What shall we do after our nap?” Harry says, his voice low and full of innuendo.

“Well…” Louis answers and he twists his finger through the loose curls that hang over Harry’s left shoulder. “I have a surprise for you. How would you like to play golf this afternoon?”

“Really?” Harry answers his voice excited. “Oh, Louis! I’d love that!”

“Well, Marcus invited us to play with him and a mate of his. I hope you don’t mind if they join us. Apparently his friend was a big golfer on Earth.”

“That will be wonderful, Lou. I can’t believe I get to be back on a green.” He pulls Louis in close and speaks softly in his ear. “I never imagined that this was what death would be like. I never thought I would be _golfing_ in the Afterlife.” He presses a kiss to the top of Louis’ head and then to his lips, raising an eyebrow to add, “I certainly never thought I’d meet the love of my life when I was already dead.” Louis giggles, his heart beating a little bit faster at Harry’s words. _The love of my life_. “So that’s your surprise, then? That we’re playing golf?”

“That’s _one_ of my surprises for you, Harry. The second surprise you’ll get later tonight.” Louis bites his lip and ducks his head. “I know I must be madly in love with you, because tonight’s surprise is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Oh, you have me very intrigued, Louis,” Harry answers, his voice deep and slow.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see if you like it this evening.”

The lift makes its descent to the lobby and Louis and Harry step off and leave the Review Center, heading in the direction of the Mexican restaurant Marcus recommended. When they arrive, they are seated in a round booth and Harry slides in first, Louis slipping in next to him, their legs pressing against each other and heat flowing between their bodies as they wait for their server. Harry places his hand on Louis’ thigh and gently glides it upwards and Louis wonders how he’s going to make it through their meal without ravaging Harry right there in their booth.

Their server approaches their table then and from the gleeful expression on his face it would appear that waiting on dead people in an Afterlife restaurant is one of the greatest rewards the universe has to offer. His name is Paulo and he’s of short stature, with curly black hair and a bushy mustache. He has a thick Spanish accent and his smile is absolutely contagious and Louis and Harry find themselves grinning back at him as he enthusiastically lists the daily specials.

“I’m going to bring each of you a huge margarita!” Paulo declares and Louis and Harry look at each other and shrug because margaritas sound pretty good about now. “Our margaritas are the best in all of Judgment City and I know for a fact that nothing beats a delicious, freshly made cocktail after a long day of Review.”

“But we only had a half day,” Harry replies and then Paulo slaps his hand over his heart dramatically and exclaims, “Half day, full day, who cares? Everyone deserves a margarita! We use the finest tequila and the freshest limes. You’ve never tasted anything like the margaritas of Casa Rosada. Now please, let me bring them to you or you’ll break my heart.”

“Please, yes, by all means, bring us the margaritas then, Paulo,” Louis answers with a laugh. Paulo nods happily and quickly disappears out of sight. Harry leans over and kisses Louis and whispers that he needs to go find the loo. He slides out of the booth and walks a few paces and then turns around and looks at Louis, smiling almost bashfully as bites his lip. Louis literally beams back at him; he’s so in love he can’t even help himself; he feels his joy radiating from his upturned lips, to his crinkled eyes and throughout his entire body.

“And you smiled because you knew,” Harry says, his voice clear as a bell. Louis’ jaw drops and his eyes go wide and Harry just muffles a soft laugh and turns and walks away. Louis sits there dumbfounded; twice he has uttered those words to Harry under his breath and clearly Harry heard him at least one of those two times. Louis wonders if Harry knows what those words mean, if he knows that they’re part of a bigger sentiment.

He doesn’t have much time to contemplate because Paulo returns with two of the biggest margaritas Louis has ever seen. They are served in tall glass cylinders, the rims coated in a crusty layer of salt, with a bright green spiral of fresh lime wrapped about dark blue glass straws. In addition to the margaritas, Paulo drops off a huge basket of freshly made corn chips along with overflowing bowls of salsa and guacamole.

Harry returns from the loo and then slips back into the booth next to Louis, drawing in a breath at the bounty on the table before them. “Guacamole!” Harry exclaims and scoops a giant dollop onto a tortilla chip. “Guacamole is one of my absolute favorites. Mmm,” he groans after taking a bite. “It’s so fresh and wonderful. I bet it’s organic.”

When Paulo returns, he doesn’t really give them an option to choose items from the menu, instead proclaiming that he is going to bring them a “Mexican feast the likes of which they’ve never tasted before,” and Louis and Harry nod their heads, readily agreeing to his suggestion. Before he steps away from the table to place their order, Paulo looks back and forth between the two of them and then sighs happily. “Soul mates,” he says wistfully, and Louis actually thinks Paulo might start to tear up, but then he quickly turns and heads toward the kitchen.

“Here’s to soul mates,” Harry says softly, and then he uses both hands to lift his massive margarita, Louis following suit. The two clink their glasses together and then take a sip, Louis closing his eyes at the perfect blend of tart and sweet, the tangy flavor of the lime melding with the bite of tequila and mellowed by a hint of sugary orange liquor. The drink is icy cold and smooth and the alcohol sends a warm buzz through Louis’ body. Like everything else he’s tasted since he crossed over, the margarita is absolutely delicious.

Harry leans over and flicks his tongue at his glass, not even slightly aware of how he looks as he licks salt off the rim. “Jesus, Harry,” Louis says, his voice practically a groan, “you’re so fucking sexy. You’ve really got to stop that right now or I won’t be responsible for my actions.” Harry licks his bottom lip and then leans in and kisses him and neither of them care that they are in a crowded restaurant, their booth is tucked away in a corner and it feels private enough and so they just allow themselves to enjoy the moment. It’s absolutely perfect.

They munch on the chips and guacamole and salsa, laughing and telling each other about their Reviews, Louis not even slightly surprised to learn that the clip that was shown during Harry’s session featured Harry ushering several of his classmates to safety when a fire broke out in his school’s science lab back when he was in sixth form.

“A bloody fire hero? Why am I not surprised, Styles?” Louis asks as he leans in and playfully nudges Harry’s shoulder.

“I was hardly a hero,” Harry answers, his voice humble, his cheeks blushing a soft pink. “I was just at the right place at the right time. If I hadn’t been late to class that afternoon I wouldn’t have taken that short cut through the hallway where the science rooms were and I never would have smelled the smoke coming from the lab. There were only a few students in there, but… you know… I was glad I was able to help.”

Louis runs his hand along Harry’s thigh and gently squeezes. “You’re wonderful, do you know that?”

“You may have mentioned,” Harry answers, trying to bite back a smile.

Louis tells Harry about his ATV accident and Harry cringes when Louis describes his shattered ankle and the way he had to escape the woods on one foot. Harry wraps his arms around Louis then, murmuring in his ear, “You traveled three kilometers on a broken foot and saved your own life, _you’re_ the hero, Louis.”

They continue talking, holding hands beneath the table and staring at each other like there is nobody else in the room, both starting to feel more than a bit tipsy from their margaritas. Before long, Paulo emerges from the kitchen with an assistant in tow, and they each carry several heaping plates of sizzling food.

“I brought you gentlemen a little bit of everything,” Paulo happily exclaims, clapping his hands together before he begins to explain the various dishes. “We have steak fajitas,” he says and points to a cast iron skillet overflowing with pieces of succulent steak and sautéed onions and green peppers, and then he lifts the lid off a large canister revealing a stack of steaming soft tortilla shells. He then waves his hand over another dish. “Over here we have albacore tuna ceviche and corn tamales and I think you’re especially going to enjoy the shrimp tacos and pork carnitas,” he adds, pointing to yet another dish. “But be sure to save some room for the pollo relleno, it’s absolutely out of this world!” In addition to the various main courses, there are small bowls filled with pico de gallo, crème fraîche, and various salsas and sauces. There is enough food on their table to easily feed four or five people. Paulo places large dinner plates in front of Harry and Louis and offers to bring them each another margarita, even though they’ve barely made a dent in their drinks.

“I think we’re good for now,” Louis says and looks to Harry for confirmation.

“Yeah, I think we have more than enough. Thank you so much.”

Paulo grins. “Anything for the young lovers,” he practically sings and then scurries away.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Harry says, but he nonetheless begins piling food on his and Louis’ plates. They both dive in right away and the food is absolutely exquisite. They hand feed each other bites of fajitas and pork tacos and moan at the way the flavors and spices compliment one another, a sharp bite of cilantro contrasting with the sweet hint of red onion and finely diced tomato, the heat of the pork cooked with hot chili peppers cooled by rich crème fraîche. It’s all so much and Harry and Louis find themselves thoroughly sated and ridiculously full in no time.

Paulo clears their table and Louis feels a pang of guilt at the amount of food that is going to waste, but Paulo assures him that absolutely _nothing_ goes to waste in Judgment City and the leftovers will be composted and repurposed. He then brings out a huge bowl of fried ice cream, insisting that Louis and Harry cannot leave the restaurant without trying dessert. They both pick up a spoon and Harry goes first, slicing his spoon through the concoction and then bringing the filled bowl of the utensil to his mouth and darting out his tongue before it has even reached his lips. Louis just stares at him, because watching Harry eat is just so entertaining and somehow Harry manages to make this simple act both adorable and sexy. Harry then slides the spoon into his mouth, clamping his lips over the end. He closes his eyes. “My god, I’m so full I can hardly see straight,” he says as he pulls the spoon back out of his mouth and licks its underside, “but this ice cream, you’ve got to try it, Lou.” He scoops up another spoonful and goes to feed it to Louis, but Louis gently pushes his hand away and leans forward and kisses Harry instead. Louis’ tongue glides into Harry’s mouth and Harry’s tongue is cold: creamy vanilla and cinnamon lingering on its surface.

“Mmm… Delicious,” Louis whispers.

“We’re absolutely disgusting,” Harry says and Louis nods in agreement.

“We are, and I don’t care a single bit.”

They only eat a few bites of the dessert before they can eat no more, so they get up to leave, turning down Paulo’s offer to send them home with snacks for later and then thanking him for his gracious service. They exit the restaurant and step back out onto the foot-pavement, the sun high in the sky, the temperature warm and comfortable. They walk towards one of the little covered tram stops and Louis turns to Harry.

“So, shall we take the green tram back to mine, then? I mean, we could also go to your hotel. I don’t want you to think we have to stay at my place all the time.”

“I like your hotel, Louis,” Harry answers. “It’s really cozy and I feel at home there. It’s perfect.”

“Okay, then,” Louis replies and he reaches out and takes Harry’s hand, tangling their fingers together.

“I was thinking though, maybe we could stay at my hotel tomorrow night? We have so much planned for today and I just feel so comfortable at yours, but tomorrow…” Harry pauses for a moment and squeezes Louis’ hand. Louis looks up at him and Harry actually appears to be nervous. He does his little fluff, swoop, and tug bit with his hair and he then flicks out his tongue and licks his lips before continuing to speak. “Um, tomorrow I thought maybe we could make it like a holiday of sorts. You’ve never been to mine and I’ve got a very nice Jacuzzi tub, which is quite relaxing, and I… I just thought maybe we could make it a really special night.” His voice trails off at the end and Louis is not exactly sure what Harry’s getting at but he finds himself endeared, so he presses him.

“You want tomorrow night to be special, Haz?”

“Well, yeah. Did Marcus tell you that we’re halfway through our Reviews?”

Louis nods. “He did.”

“Well, that means tomorrow will be our last full day in Judgment City, and I just want it to be one to remember.”

“That’s really nice, Harry,” Louis replies, but his voice is distracted. _Our last full day in Judgment City_ … _Shit_. Louis rubs his forehead and draws in a deep breath. He cannot let the finality of that statement cause him to panic in any way. He and Harry are moving forward together. He knows that. He should be looking forward to the end of his Review, rather than anticipating some horrible outcome.

“Louis, are you alright?” Harry asks, his voice full of concern as he pulls Louis in close to him and Louis can’t help but wonder how Harry can read him so well. Louis looks into Harry’s eyes and smiles, and the gesture for the most part is genuine. He’s not going to allow himself to go down some rabbit hole when he has the most beautiful man he’s ever seen staring at him with huge doe eyes that look like sparkling emeralds in the light of the afternoon sun. He’s not going to make this man he loves worry about him, and he’s not going to do that very thing to himself.

“I’m fine, love,” Louis answers. “I promise. It’s just hard to believe this whole thing will be done in two days.”

“Yeah, it seems like we’ve been here for ages, but then it also feels like we’ve just arrived, you know?”

“Yeah, it really does.” Louis clears his throat and makes a conscious effort to remember how good his day is going and let go of the nagging worry. He returns to the original subject at hand: tomorrow night. “So, Harry, what have you got planned for tomorrow night then?”

“Well, um, I thought we could stay in the whole night, you know, order room service, maybe have a soak in the Jacuzzi. I just don’t want to share you with anyone.”

“That sounds really wonderful, Harry.”

Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ back and draws him in so their chests are flush. Louis slides his hands around Harry’s hips, settling them on the dip at the base of his spine and then he rests his cheek on Harry’s shoulder. Harry starts to slowly rock their bodies back and forth and his voice is deep and smooth like honey when he again speaks, the tone resonating in his chest and Louis can feel the vibrations of it throughout his body. “Tomorrow night, Louis. I want _everything_ with you.”

The lack of sleep has finally fully caught up with Louis and he feels himself almost drifting off as Harry’s body continues to rock. Harry’s words don’t even fully register with him at first and he’s not even sure what he is saying when he mutters, “Everything, love?”

“Mm hmm,” Harry responds, “Everything, Louis. Tomorrow night I want to feel you inside me… and not just your fingers.”

Louis’ eyes open wide and he suddenly feels very awake. He jerks his head back and searches Harry’s face. Harry just stares at him, a slight blush on the apples of his cheeks, but otherwise, his expression is certain.

“Harry… Are… are you sure? I know that’s a big step and –”

“Louis,” Harry cuts him off. “We’ve already been moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you agree?” Louis has to nod at that because it was only yesterday morning they had their first kiss and by last night they were stripped naked on a bed and swallowing each other’s come.

“It doesn’t feel like it’s been fast though,” Louis offers. “It feels like I’ve known you forever. I just… I love you, Harry, so much and I know that I’ve never loved anyone like this before.” He lays his head back down against Harry’s shoulder and breathes in his scent, unable to believe that all of this is real.

Harry squeezes him tight and kisses Louis’ cheek before leaning in and whispering lowly in his ear, “I’ve never felt this way before either. I never thought a love like this was even possible, Louis. And tomorrow… Tomorrow night, Lou, I’m _finally_ going to find out what ‘making love’ actually means.”

Louis feels like a bottle of carbonated fizzy drink that has been shaken and then had the lid removed, the love and anticipation he feels effervescent and bubbling out all over his skin. He’s light and heady and utterly intoxicated, and not due to the massive margarita he drank at lunch, but rather he feels drunk on the words that have spilled from Harry’s pink lips. If Louis had been on Earth and someone had uttered the phrase “making love” to him, he probably would have laughed, thinking such a sentiment was utterly cheesy. But hearing those words come out of Harry’s mouth… Well, Louis doesn’t think he’s heard anything more beautiful and more arousing in his entire existence.

“I’m going to treat you so well, Harry,” he practically growls and he’s acutely aware of the blood coursing through his body as he pulls Harry in for a kiss. They’re standing at a tram stop on a busy street in the middle of the afternoon and they might as well be the only two people in the universe because they certainly kiss like they are. Louis pushes his mouth against Harry’s and they kiss slow and dirty and when Harry slips his tongue into Louis’ mouth Louis makes the softest whimpering sound; he’s thoroughly overwhelmed. Louis moves in closer then, his hips swaying forward and his thickening cock rutting against Harry’s own hard member. “Fuck!” Louis cries as he comes to his senses, the two pull apart, both panting hot breaths as Louis quickly looks around to make sure they aren’t creating a scene. They’re the only two people standing beneath the awning of the tram stop and while there are people walking up and down the foot-pavement on either side of the street, nobody seems to be paying them any attention.

“Tomorrow night,” Louis says and then he runs his hands down the front of his tupa, trying to fix his appearance.

“Tomorrow night,” Harry repeats. “But I can’t promise you that I’m going to keep my hands off you tonight, Louis, or for that matter, when we get back to your hotel room. We can sleep later, you know.”

Louis shakes his head in disbelief and presses his hand against his crotch, willing his semi-hard cock to go back down. “Shit, Harry. The things you do to me.”

A bright green tram pulls up just then, the placard on the front reading _Final Stop: The Regency_. Louis and Harry clasp hands and climb on board.

 

 


	12. Five in Five

The fact that Harry used the term “making love” to describe what he wants with Louis has Louis completely riled up and he’s actually feeling more than a little beside himself when they step onto the tram and make their way down its center aisle. There are only a few other passengers on board, so they sit near the back and have the entire area all to themselves.

Harry turns to look at Louis as they take their seat and he smiles at him casually, but Louis just stares because he can feel the blood coursing through his body, particularly his cock, and all he wants to do is climb onto Harry’s lap and grind into him until they are both coming in their tupas. Harry looks back at him happily at first and then he must pick up on what Louis is thinking because his expression slowly turns serious and he licks his lips, his eyes going a shade darker and burning through Louis in the form of shooting flashes of heat that run down his limbs and let off little sparks through his fingertips and toes.

“Bloody hell, the way you make me feel,” Louis croaks and he leans in to whisper lowly. “Tomorrow night, Harry… It’s going to be… _We’re_ going to be… We’re going to be _so very good_ together.”

Harry doesn’t speak, he just keeps staring at Louis, biting his bottom lip, his breathing a little bit heavier as he watches Louis closely. “Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you, Harry? Shall I tell you?”

Harry nods his head slowly, his eyes transfixed on Louis, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.

“I’m going to start by laying you out and worshiping every inch of your body.” He leans in for a moment and nuzzles his nose in Harry’s hair, inhaling the sweet smell and causing Harry to shiver. “I’m going to take my time with you. I want you to feel every breath…” Louis blows the lightest puff of air on Harry’s cheekbone, “every touch…” and gently slips his fingertip over the spot where his dimple hides, “and every kiss…” he presses a soft kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth, which turns up into the faintest smile, “that I dedicate to your body.”

Louis continues speaking, his eyes mischievous and his voice raspy. “I’m going to kiss you from your littlest toe to your pinkie finger,” and as he says this, Louis takes Harry’s hand in his own and kisses the tip of each finger and pinkie, and when he’s finished, he tenderly places Harry’s hand back in his lap and repeats the process with his remaining hand.

He rests his own hand on Harry’s thigh then and begins to gently draw lazy spirals with his fingertips. “I’m going to drag my tongue up your thighs and taste your salty flesh. I’m going to suck on those beautiful laurel leaves that are tattooed on your hips, and I’m going to bite my way up to your nipples.” Harry lets out the quietest whimper that no one but Louis can hear. “I’m absolutely going to _feast_ on your nipples, Harry.”

Harry shifts in his seat and groans, “Looouis,” dragging Louis’ name out like it hurts him to speak.

“And that’s not even the best part, love. The best part is that I’m going to open you up so, so slowly,” Louis coos, and Harry closes his eyes and clenches his fists, his knuckles white, his shoulders pressed back against their shared bench seat, his body tense. “I’m going to spread you open so gently and so deep… one finger at a time. You’re going to feel every bit of the stretch, Harry… and when I hit your spot…” Louis draws in a deep breath and speaks directly into Harry’s ear. “When I hit your spot, I’m going to work you over long and hard until you can’t keep yourself still anymore, until you’re writhing on the mattress and fucking yourself on my fingers… until you’re absolutely begging for my cock.”

Harry opens his eyes and his pupils are blown wide and his cheeks have flushed the softest pink.

“And then I’m going to give it to you,” Louis says simply.

Harry’s lips are juicy and wet and when he speaks, his voice sounds raw and already well fucked. “Tell me more,” he groans, and he reaches for Louis’ hand, dragging it into his lap and placing it directly on his cock, which is fat and hard. Louis’ pulse quickens as he drags his fingertips over the soft material of Harry’s tupa, running his hand over the hard outline of his dick and causing Harry to draw in a sharp breath.

“I’m going to press into you sweet and slow and I’m going to – ”

“Final stop, The Regency!” The sound of the tram operator’s voice blares through the tram speakers, and Louis and Harry look at each other completely startled because for a few minutes they both forgot they were even on the tram and they certainly didn’t register that it had made three stops before reaching its final destination. They quickly pull themselves together and straighten themselves out, hurrying off and nodding thanks to the driver as they go.

They hastily make their way into the hotel, up the lift to the twelfth floor and to Louis’ room, and Louis has no sooner opened the door than Harry practically yanks him inside and swiftly slams it shut behind them. He pushes Louis up against the wall opposite the mirrored sliding doors of Louis’ cupboard and rests his palms on its smooth surface on either side of Louis’ shoulders, bracketing him in. Louis’ heart is beating fast, completely turned on by the way Harry is taking control, hovering over Louis like Louis belongs only to him, which, he in fact does.

Harry steps closer and leans in as if he is going to kiss him and Louis tilts his head forward to receive his lips, but Harry pulls back, teasing Louis before easing in again, his mouth blowing soft, hot breaths against Louis’ skin. Harry’s eyes quickly scan Louis’ mouth and move up his face to zero in on his eyes, staring into them like he can see right through Louis, like he knows his every desire, and like he’s going to give in to all of them.

“Tomorrow night,” Harry murmurs and his voice is low and sounds like sex. He doesn’t break eye contact and Louis can’t move; he feels completely encompassed with Harry in front and all around him. “Tomorrow night, Louis, you’re going to take your time with me and you’re going to make love to me sweet and slow.” He leans forward then and flicks his tongue over Louis’ lips, Louis once again chasing after it, before Harry pulls away. “You’re going to make me beg for you, just like you said.” Louis swallows thickly but he doesn’t blink, completely mesmerized by the man before him, the air around them practically vibrating with electricity. “Then after we’ve rested up a bit, I’m going to climb on top of you and I’m going to ride you while you fuck me hard and dirty and the things that I’m going to do to you while you’re inside me, Louis, well, you’re going to be the one who is begging for mercy then.”

Louis’ eyes go wide and his mouth opens into a round “O”, because Jesus Henry Christ, Harry is the sexiest fucking thing he’s ever seen and the words that have just spilled out of those pretty pink lips make Louis squeak, proper speech having completely left him. Harry doesn’t waste the opportunity before him; he inches his mouth forward and flicks his tongue between Louis’ parted lips, gliding it against Louis’ own and causing him to moan. The kiss is wet and sloppy and Louis closes his eyes as Harry nips at his bottom lip before letting go and pausing for a moment before once again clamping his mouth over Louis’, licking inside, their tongues tangling together in fevered movement.

They pull apart, both panting heavily. “Fucking hell,” Louis pleads. “I need you to get out of that tupa… Like, right now, Haz.”

The words have barely left his mouth before Harry is stepping backwards, unfastening his belt and tossing it to the floor. He pulls the skirt of his tupa up to his chest in one swift motion and Louis just stares because Harry’s cock is thick and straining in his pants, the very tip peeking out and shiny with a bead of precome, and Louis is positively desperate for a taste. Louis reaches out then, using his hands to help Harry push the garment up his chest, pulling it over Harry’s head and down and off his long arms.

Harry grabs Louis by the belt of his tupa and starts walking backwards, leading them into the main room and straight to Louis’ bed. The bed is freshly made, a box of chocolates on the pillow and Harry whips back the covers and top sheet so fast that Louis almost missed seeing it happen, the box of chocolates flying through the air and landing at the foot of the mattress.

Harry sits down on the edge of the bed then and spreads his legs, his muscular thighs forming a “V” that he pulls Louis into so that he stands between them. He slides his hands behind Louis’ back and unfastens his belt, dropping it so that it hangs half off the side of the bed, half onto the floor below. Louis just stands there looking down at Harry, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides as he waits for what Harry is going to do next. And what Harry does next is lift his right hand and flatten his palm over the center of Louis’ chest, slowly dragging it downwards until it’s settled on Louis’ crotch. Louis’ hips jut forward at the touch and he’s unable to suppress the low moan that escapes him. Harry leans forward then and ducks his head, his forehead resting on Louis’ tummy and his mouth blowing hot air over Louis’ clothed dick. Louis clutches the fabric of his tupa and begins to pull the garment upwards, Harry’s hands immediately snaking beneath the loose material, his fingers walking up Louis’ outer thighs to his waist as Louis pulls the garment the rest of the way up his chest and over his head. He drops the tupa onto the floor below and as he does so Harry leans back, pulling Louis down on top of him and scooting backwards so they are spread out horizontally across the mattress.

Louis sits up and straddles Harry, his bum resting on Harry’s hips, their hard cocks side by side, barely contained in their pants. Harry’s hands slide slowly up Louis’ hips, holding on to him as Louis leans forward and places one hand on the mattress and uses the other to gently trace the outline of Harry’s butterfly tattoo, the muscles of his abdomen stretching and quivering at Louis’ touch, his chest rising and falling in a heavy rhythm. Louis fingers trail downward from the center of the tattoo and brush beneath his hard cock as he scratches through the thin line of hair that runs from Harry’s naval to the thicker patch of hair hidden beneath his boxer briefs. “Treasure trail,” he whispers in a singsong voice, and then he lightly traces his fingers over the tip off Harry’s leaking head, Harry’s hips rolling upwards as Louis gathers a dab of precome onto the pad of his thumb and then raises it to his mouth and slowly sucks.

Harry makes a soft mewling sound at the sight and again rolls his hips, Louis grinding back down against him, their sheathed dicks rubbing together. Harry reaches up and cups his fingers into the deep wells created by Louis’ arched collarbones and Louis leans forward and slots his lips against Harry’s, the two giving into a long and passionate kiss.

“Your collarbones are one of the sexiest things about you, Louis,” Harry murmurs between kisses, “and there are so many sexy things about you, so that’s saying a lot. I think your body is going to the death of me.” He grins as the last words leave his mouth because he’s already expecting Louis’ retort.

“Harold, you do know you’re already dead, don’t you?”

“I know, I know,” Harry answers as he brushes his thumbs along the base of Louis’ neck. “It’s easy to forget considering I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with you.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “That kind of cheesy flattery will get you places, love,” he replies and then licks his tongue along the seam of Harry’s mouth, Harry parting his lips to invite him in.

“Pants off,” Harry commands when they break the kiss and pull apart again. Louis automatically sits up and slides his hands under the waistband of Harry’s pants and then crawls down his body to pull them over his thighs, Harry then kicking them the rest of the way off. Harry tries to contain his smile as Louis climbs back up him, but gives in. “For the record, I meant _your_ pants, Louis. But this is nice too.”

“Oh. Right,” Louis replies, chuckling softly. “I can do that.” He rolls off Harry and flat onto his back, arching his spine and lifting his bum off the mattress so he can wiggle out of his own pants, kicking them over the side of the bed with both feet before rolling back toward Harry. He’s about to climb back on top of him but then retreats down the side of the bed instead, scooting away. Harry reaches out to him and playfully whines, “Please! Don’t leave me, Louis!”

Louis turns around to face him and says solemnly, “I would never, love,” the moment suddenly having more meaning.

“I know you won’t,” Harry answers, then reaches out and squeezes Louis’ hand.

Louis closes his eyes for a moment. He doesn’t allow himself to think about their Reviews, or the threat of being separated from Harry and getting sent back to Earth, or all the other nonsense that has been casting a heavy shadow over his happy thoughts. Rather, he stays on task and stretches to reach the nightstand, opening the drawer and retrieving a bottle of lubricant before returning to Harry’s side.

“I like where you’re going with this,” Harry grins, and he reaches to take the bottle from Louis.

“Don’t get any fresh ideas, darling,” Louis teases, holding the lube out of Harry’s reach. “I’ll remind you that we’re saving the actual… _lovemaking_ … for tomorrow night.” Harry smiles and nods his head. “But knowing that this is here,” he holds the bottle of lube in front of Harry and then hands it to him, “well, I just think we owe it to ourselves to take it out for a test run.”

And so they do.

Harry rolls on top of Louis, pinning his arms over his head as he grinds down against him, Louis wrapping his legs over the back of Harry’s thighs to pull him in closer. They rut up against each other, basking in the heat and the friction of skin-to-skin contact, Louis’ body tingling all over, his cock painfully hard as it glides against Harry’s. All the while Harry kisses him so soft and tenderly: the gentle movement of his mouth and soft licks of his tongue in utter opposition to the heavy grinding of his hips.

When Louis grunts out that he needs more, Harry sits up on his knees, straddling Louis’ pelvis. He picks up the bottle of lube and flips open the cap, squeezing a dollop into the palm of his hand and drizzling a bit more onto the tips of his fingers. He reaches out then and wraps his hand around Louis’ cock and Louis lets out a soft cry at the contact, the cool gel contrasted with the warm skin of Harry’s palm shooting an electric spark straight from his root to his tip.

Harry moves his hand slowly at first, spreading out the lubricant on Louis’ shaft and all over his own palm and fingers, Louis’s hips lifting upwards in response, his neck arching and his head pressing hard into the mattress. Harry lies down on his side then, sliding his body alongside Louis’ before placing his free hand on his waist and turning Louis so they face one another. Louis reaches down and when Harry glides his hand upwards, Louis grabs the base of his own cock, twisting his hand to slick his palm with the lubricant Harry has spread over him before taking his hand away and immediately wrapping it around Harry’s thick shaft. Harry moans and juts his hips forward.

The two stare into each other’s eyes as they jerk each other off, the only sound in the room their heavy breaths and the slick click of their hands twisting up and down each other’s shafts. It’s sexy and it’s intimate and when Louis tells Harry he is close, Harry slows down his movements, replying that he wants them to come together.

Louis gives Harry everything then; he tugs a bit harder and glides his thumb over Harry’s slit on every upstroke and tickles his fingertips over his sensitive balls each time his hand strokes back downwards. Before long, both of their hand movements become erratic and jerky as they edge ever closer to the precipice.

Louis places his free hand on Harry’s cheek and then pulls him in, their lips coming together for a heated kiss. His body feels like it’s melding into Harry’s and he closes his eyes and breathes him in, the salty tang of sweat mixing with Harry’s sweet, natural scent. They both begin tugging each other faster and Louis lets go of Harry’s lips and nips at his chin and jaw, Harry’s fingers carding through his hair.

Louis feels his body tense and for the briefest of moments he is utterly dizzy, like all the blood in his brain is rushing to his groin, the pull indescribable.

“Gonna come, Haz,” he croaks. Harry nods his head rapidly, and Louis can feel Harry’s body reacting, his cock growing even harder in Louis’ hand as he approaches his own orgasm. Louis experiences it first: the maddening build-up as he nears the edge and the thrumming electricity as his body gives in and he goes over, just as Harry’s body follows suit.

They both experience the sweet flow of release together: pearly strands shooting from the heads of their cocks leaving creamy trails that mingle over each other’s chests and abdomens, their bodies so close that it’s almost impossible to discern where Louis’ starts and Harry’s ends.

Their breathing is heavy and their limbs weak as they slowly come down, the fervent movement of their lips smacking against each other tapering to feather light presses as they fully relax, their energy completely sapped as the lack of sleep from the night before and the exertion of their orgasms catches up to them and begins to pull them under. Harry completely turns his body then, pulling Louis along with him so they are properly laid out vertically across the bed, Louis on his back and Harry collapsed on Louis’ chest, their arms wrapped tightly around one another and their legs slotted together.

“I know we should shower, but I don’t think I could move again if I tried,” Harry says, his voice trailing off as he speaks.

Louis reaches over and grabs a few tissues off the nightstand, haphazardly wiping the come off their bodies and then tossing them aside. “Clean enough?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Mm hmm,” Harry mumbles and nuzzles his cheek into the crook of Louis’ neck, resting his head on his shoulder as they both fall into a deep sleep.

 

*****

 

The loud ringing of the telephone startles them both awake and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever heard such a hateful or more intrusive sound in his entire life… or death.

“This can’t be happening,” he sighs as he rubs his hand over his face and answers the wake up call, thanking the front desk attendant and then hanging up the telephone. Harry doesn’t move, his body still splayed on top of Louis’ in the exact same position as when they fell asleep nearly two hours earlier.

“Can’t we just stay in bed all day?” Harry pouts, his voice thick with sleep.

“I’d love to, darling,” Louis answers, his own voice groggy. He runs his fingers up and down Harry’s back. “But we have a golf game, remember?”

“I do love golf,” Harry agrees, but his voice almost sounds like that of petulant child. “But I’m so tired, Lou.” He burrows in closer against Louis, his curls tickling Louis’ cheek. “I’d be okay to miss if you would. I quite like the idea of staying here in bed for a few more hours.

“Really, Haz?” Louis asks. He scoots back a little toward the headboard and then reaches for a second pillow, propping it beneath him so he is sitting partially upright. Harry hasn’t moved; he’s still tucked against Louis like it’s the most comfortable place in the universe. “I mean, if you’re serious, I’m sure I can get a hold of Marcus. He’ll understand if we want to stay in.” He winds his fingers through Harry’s curls and then gently scratches his scalp, Harry letting out a happy sigh in response. “Of course, he was quite keen on you meeting his friend; apparently he was very prominent golfer in his day.”

“Mmmm,” Harry mumbles, then adds, “What’s his name, Lou? Marcus’ friend, I mean.”

Louis takes a moment to think. He’s not overly keen on golf and so his mental catalog of long-dead professional golfers is not particularly extensive. “Shit. I’m sure that I know it; Marcus told me his name several times. Oh! I do remember that his first name is _Payne_ , because that’s my best mate Liam’s surname.”

Louis rubs his forehead and he’s concentrating so hard trying to remember the full name of Marcus’ golfer friend that he doesn’t even register Harry slowly lifting his head off his chest and sitting upright.

“Payne?” Harry asks and Louis nods his head in agreement.

“I just wish I could remember his last name…”

“Louis,” Harry says, and his voice is careful. Louis looks at him and Harry looks almost nervous. “Is his last name _Stewart_?”

“Yes!” Louis exclaims then slaps his hands together. “Payne Stewart! That’s his name. You’ve heard of him, love?”

Harry’s eyes go wide and he bounces onto his knees, a huge grin splitting his face as he exclaims, “Have I heard of him? Louis! Payne Stewart was huge in the 1980’s and 90s. He came from behind and won the 1989 PGA Championship by a single stroke; it was absolutely unbelievable what he pulled off! He also won _two_ US Open titles, Louis, Two! He’s an absolute legend…” Harry shakes his head back and forth for a moment, his voice full of awe as he adds, “I can’t believe we’re actually invited to golf with Payne Stewart.”

Louis smiles and nods his head as if he understands any of the words Harry is saying, but golf is a language he simply doesn’t comprehend. Harry’s voice gets a bit more serious as he continues, shaking his head, “Payne Stewart died in a airplane accident, Louis. The plane depressurized midflight and there was no oxygen, everyone on board died of hypoxia. It was so tragic. He was very young: in his early forties, I think. Of course, I was just a child when that happened, but when I got older and really got into golf I learned all about him. Niall and I watched lots of videos of him playing and he was really brilliant: a true master.”

“Wow,” Louis replies, “that sounds so sad, how he died, I mean.”

“Yeah, but actually, it’s my understanding that when planes depressurize like that, everyone just kind of… goes to sleep.” Harry shrugs his shoulders. “It’s strange how once you’re on the other side of death, the way people pass over doesn’t seem as scary, yeah?”

Louis nods his head. Harry lets out a long sigh. “But Payne Stewart, Louis. What a legend. I can’t wait to see what he wears today! He was very famous for his dapper golf attire. He wore the _best_ golf clothes.”

“Well then, it sounds like you’re officially up for a round of golf?” Louis says with a grin.

Harry answers him by jumping up so that he’s standing on the bed, his feet planted on either side of Louis' hips. He hops up and down then causing the entire bed and Louis included to shake beneath him, his cock slapping against his belly and thighs as he moves, making Louis laugh.

“Get up! Get up! Get up!” Harry practically sings. “We’re golfing with Payne Stewart! We’re golfing with Payne Stewart!” Louis can’t help but feel proud, having made Harry so happy.

The two head to the en suite and quickly freshen up, washing the dried come off their bodies in the shower and brushing their teeth. When they step out, Louis finds a note from Donald has been slipped under the door to the room.

 

_Good Afternoon Louis and Harry!_

_There are two fresh tupas and pants in the closet for Harry and you’ll also find a golf tupa for each of you. Clubs, shoes, and gloves will be provided at the course. I understand you’ll be golfing with Payne Stewart this afternoon; you’re in for wonderful treat!_

_I’ve arranged for a tram to transport you both to Pinebrook for your 4 PM tee time. Please be in the lobby by 3:40 PM to ensure your prompt arrival._

_Best,_

_Donald_

 

“Golf tupa,” Louis grumbles as he pulls opens his cupboard doors, peering inside. Hanging beside his own tupas are two, slightly longer and freshly pressed tupas obviously meant for Harry, the hangers on which they are hung each having a small plastic bag that holds a neatly folded pair of boxer briefs. “I don’t see any special tupas in here, Harry, but I like that you’ve officially moved in.”

Harry grins and slides the first panel of the cupboard door closed, opening the second. “Here they are, Lou,” he replies, removing two tupas from the far end. They look exactly like every other tupa Louis has worn during his brief time in the Afterlife.

Louis looks at them with disdain. “How are these in anyway different than the tupas we already wear?” He furrows his brows and pouts. “You do realize that when I played footie I had to wear that microscopic porno tupa and it hardly seems fair that I don’t get to see you in anything different?”

“First of all, don’t bring up your footie kit or I’ll get a massive woody and won’t be able to play golf,” Harry sighs wistfully. “I swear, your arse in those pants…” and his voice trails off and he closes his eyes and licks his lips, lost in thought.

“Yeah, well, I had to dress like an utter twink to play my sport, and you get to wear regular clothing to play yours. It’s not right. I demand to see you golfing in attire that renders you mostly naked and on display.”

Harry smiles and hands Louis’ golf tupa to him. “This is actually different than our regular tupas, Lou. Feel the material. Feel how light it is.”

Louis does as he’s told and the fabric _does_ feel different. It doesn’t look sheer, but it feels utterly diaphanous, like the finest silk Louis has ever touched, the material virtually weightless. They both dress in the garments and don the included belts.

“I feel like I’m not wearing any clothing at all,” Harry comments, running his hands over his sleeves. He takes a few steps back and swings an imaginary golf club. “This is amazing, Louis! I think I have greater range of motion in this tupa than I ever did in my regular golf clothes.”

“I’ll have to be honest, it feels like nothing I’ve ever worn before, Haz.” Louis admits. “I didn’t think it was possible for these bed sheets to be any more comfortable than they already are; go figure they saved the best material for the golfers.” He winks at Harry and Harry leans over, pecking him on the lips.

 

*****

 

The Pinebrook Golf Course is absolutely breathtaking. The driveway leading to the clubhouse and pro shop is bordered with hydrangea bushes covered in huge blooms in various shades of blue, pink, and purple, and massive dogwood, oak, and flowering cherry trees cover the lush green lawn, the landscape having an almost homey feel.

The architecture of the main clubhouse looks straight out of the American South: it’s an enormous wooden structure painted a brilliant white, its façade adorned with a row of heavy Corinthian columns, the base of each covered in sprawling honeysuckle vines that emit the most intoxicating fragrance. A large, wraparound porch runs the perimeter of the building and is bedecked with exotic potted plants and flowers, wicker rocking chairs, and round dining tables that seat up to four.

The golf course itself is truly spectacular; the greens are comprised of gently sloping hills in various hues of green that remind Louis of the pitches at Shepherdshire, and in the distance a forest of tall pines form a natural barrier that borders the course. Throughout the greens are a number of large and small ponds covered in lily pads and edged in cattails, while strategically placed sand traps in brilliant gold provide obstacles for the golfers at various turns.

After picking up their golf gear in the pro shop, Louis and Harry meet up with Marcus and Payne, who drive up in two golf carts and are ready to play.

Payne Stewart does not disappoint.

His clothing hearkens back to the style of dress golfers wore in the mid-20th century and he is bedecked in brilliant shades of turquoise, orange, and white. He’s clothed in baggy knickerbockers that extend to just below his knees and he wears argyle socks and crisp white golf shoes. His golf shirt is long sleeved with a jaunty upturned collar and on his head he wears a newsboy cap adorned with a pompom. Marcus, who is dressed in simple white pants and a short sleeve purple golf shirt introduces him to Louis and Harry and when Payne goes to shake Harry’s hand, Harry’s mouth falls open and the only words he manages to croak out are, “H-hello, L-legend.”

Harry is mortified, but Payne laughs and slaps him on the back and before long Harry is able to relax and the two begin chatting like they are long time golf buddies. Harry looks blissfully happy and completely in his element and if Louis knew anything about golf, he would recognize that Harry is a very good golfer. Not Payne Stewart good, but very good nonetheless. Marcus is also quite skilled at the sport, and Louis… Well, Louis is absolutely terrible. He doesn’t mind though, because Harry is a dream golf instructor and he’s quite enjoying their mini lessons between holes.

At the second hole, Harry stands behind him, pressing his chest against Louis’ back and wrapping his arms around Louis’ body as he attempts to show Louis how to properly hold his club. “You have to buy me drinks first if you’re going to hold me this way, Harry,” Louis teases, and Harry chuckles and pinches Louis’ hip to get him to pay attention. After positioning Louis’ hands and guiding him through a practice swing, Harry steps back and Louis takes his shot, chipping the ball straight up into the air a dozen meters or so, all four players covering their heads and ducking as they wait for the ball to make its descent back to the ground below. It lands with a thump and bounces a few times before rolling to a stop less than a meter from the tee. Marcus and Payne can barely contain their laughter, but Harry squeezes Louis’ side, telling him that it was a really good effort.

By the time they finish the fourth hole, Payne is two under par with an enviable score of twelve strokes, Marcus and Harry also having played quite well with very respectable scores of nineteen and twenty, respectively.

Louis has shot a fifty-seven.

He’d be utterly humiliated if he didn’t have Harry constantly encouraging him, even after an embarrassing twenty-minute sojourn in a sand trap. But still, golf is definitely not his game and it is sweet relief when Marcus suggests that Payne and Harry finish out the round on their own while he takes his client to the clubhouse for a pint.

“I can call it a game too, Lou, if you like,” Harry suggests, but Louis knows that Harry is loving every minute of golfing with Payne Stewart and he wouldn’t dare take this experience from him.

“No, love. I won’t hear of it. You and Payne enjoy the game and you two can meet us in the clubhouse when you’re finished and we can all have dinner together afterwards, yeah?” Harry looks at Louis and his expression is uncertain, like he’s somehow betraying Louis by taking pleasure in something that Louis not only doesn’t like, but is in fact, terrible at doing. Louis can’t help but grin because he’s so lucky to have someone as wonderful as Harry to call his own, and also because he simply cannot wait to get off the golf course. “Listen, without me out here dragging you down, I imagine this game will drastically pick up the pace. I want you to have a good time, Harry. You play so well.”

Harry bites in his bottom lip to contain his smile. “You could never drag me down, Louis, but, um… I’m having so much fun.” He leans in and whispers, “I’m golfing with Payne Stewart! Can you believe it?”

Louis pecks a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. “I _can_ believe it and you’re giving him a real run for his money, Haz,” he says and winks.

Payne walks over then and extends his hand to Louis and the two shake, Payne pulling Louis in for a half hug and pat on the back. “Well, Louis, I’ll miss sparring with you on the green, but Harry and I will catch up to you and Marcus later.” He looks to Marcus then and playfully points his golf club at him. “Don’t think this gets you out of playing a full round with me, Marcus. I’ll make a golf lover out of you, yet.”

Marcus laughs and gives Payne a high five. “I’m sure you will, friend. I’m sure you will.”

Ten minutes later, Louis and Marcus are sitting at the elegant, polished oak bar of the Pinebrook clubhouse sipping the most delicious beer Louis has ever tasted out of iced pint glasses. Louis munches on salty crisps and Marcus is chomping on a pile of bright orange pellets that look like fish eggs, which the bartender referred to as “mullets” when he placed them in front of him.

“Those really look disgusting Marcus,” Louis comments, pointing to Marcus’ snack. “I’ve never seen such a catastrophic shade of orange in all of my existence and I should know; I used to eat a lot of carrots back on Earth.”

Marcus huffs a laugh and pops a few more mullets into his mouth. “It’s my intention that you will move forward, Louis, and when that happens, you’ll start using more of your brain and when you do, you’ll eventually stop enjoying the terribly bland food you are currently eating,” and he points his finger at Louis’ heaping basket of crunchy crisps, “and start liking things that are full of delicious flavor, like my mullets here.”

“Well, if eating the terrible things you seem to relish means I get to spend eternity with Harry, then sign me up, Marcus. I’m all in.” The two bump fists. “By the way, thanks for getting me out of that golf game, mate. I loved seeing Harry enjoying himself so much, but honestly, golf is the worst.”

“I can’t argue with you there, Louis,” Marcus says with a laugh. “I was more than happy to leave the links, even though I always like spending time with Payne. He’s a really good guy.”

“Well, you and he really made Harry’s day and for that I’ll be forever grateful,” Louis replies sincerely. He raises his pint glass to Marcus in cheers, Marcus knocking his own against it in return.

“Not to change the subject, Louis, but I want you to know that I was really thrilled this morning when you were offered the _Five in Five_ video screening. That’s an excellent sign as to how your Review is going. It’s up to the Chief Justice to decide if an Intake will have the option of viewing the _Five in Five_ clip and Chief Justice Wen gave that option to you. She must think very highly of you, Louis.”

Louis feels like a bit of weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “That’s so good to hear. I want to do well in my Review.” He clears his throat and says a bit quieter, “I know in my heart that Harry is going to move forward and I can’t bear the thought of not moving forward with him.”

“I’m doing everything in my power to make sure that you’ll advance, Louis. Stay focused and stay positive, that’s the best advice I can give you.”

“I’m trying,” Louis answers, his voice sincere. “I promise you, Marcus, I’m trying.” He drags his finger down the side of his glass, cutting through the frost and leaving a pile of icy shavings on his coaster. “So, this _Five in Five_ video; what’s it all about then?” Louis asks, changing the subject.

“It’s really an amazing experience, Louis. But it’s also very painful. I want you to be prepared for that. It’s not going to be like seeing your family or friends in the clips during the Review. This experience is far more visceral. It’s quite comforting to see your loved ones in a future context and to know that they’ve carried on with their lives without you, but the initial realization that you’ll never share in their experiences on Earth again can be devastating. For the most part, you’re insulated from grief here because it’s a distraction, but this experience is designed for those who are in a good position in their Reviews and thus might not have the opportunity to travel with their life mates again in the Earthly realm.”

“ _Life mates_?” Louis asks. “What does that mean?”

Marcus places both hands on the banister of the bar. “Well, it’s a lot to explain and to take in,” he responds, “but to put it simply, we don’t travel this universe alone. There is a circle of people who travel with us, I happen to call those people ‘life mates’, but others call them a ‘tribe’ or ‘clan’ or simply a ‘circle’. Life mates are one’s family, friends, and closest confidants that one holds most dear on Earth. These same people show up in every lifetime one lives, in one form or another. In one lifetime, a life mate might be your father, and in the next lifetime, he’s your best friend or even your son. But regardless of the forms your life mates take, you are bonded.” Marcus swirls his finger in the air, indicating the space around them. “You and your circle are united and in this existence thing together.”

Louis feels goose bumps break out on his skin as Marcus speaks, the hair standing on his arms as he attempts to digest this new information. Marcus continues. “Because everyone goes through a Review when they die, and not everyone passes, the people in your circle move forward at different times and as different people, but eventually, you all meet up on this side and it’s pretty wonderful when it starts to happen.”

“So, I’ll see them all again?” Louis asks cautiously. “My mum… My siblings… Liam?”

“You will, yes. It may take time because everyone advances in the universe at their own pace, but you will be reunited with them all eventually, I promise.”

Louis is not sure he understands all of this life mates business, but he does feel comforted by the fact that he’s eternally bonded to those he loved on Earth and that ultimately, he’ll get to be with them again. He had always had the sense that he was somehow connected to the people that mattered to him, but now he actually knows that there is some kind of invisible cord that tethers him to the family and friends he cares about and that this cord is strong enough to withstand literal lifetimes in the universe.

“Marcus, can I ask you something?” Louis says tentatively and Marcus nods his head in response. “Since you’ve crossed over and moved forward, have you met up with anyone in your circle?”

“Quite a few of them, yes,” Marcus answers and his mouth turns up in a smile. “Those who have advanced are all in the next realm; I’m the only one from my circle to come back and work with Intakes. But others, I’m still waiting on and that’s okay, because I know they’ll get here eventually. It’s really very beautiful when you think about it.”

Louis nods his head because Marcus is right; the fact that he is traveling through lifetimes with a group of people who matter to him and are part of his heart and soul is pretty incredible.

“Let me share one more thing about your life mates, Louis, because I think it’s important. When you think about your mother, or Liam, or the others in your life that mattered to you on Earth, they feel your love, Louis; death and distance don’t break those bonds.”

Louis makes a sound that is a cross between a laugh and a cry. “They feel my love?”

“Yes. Did you ever love anyone who passed over and out of the blue you would have a warm thought about them or a fond memory would pop into your head?”

“I had that happen all the time after my Nan died,” Louis answers.

“She was thinking about you from this side, Louis.”

Louis feels a rush of warmth shower over him and he hopes all the times he’s thought about his loved ones since he’s passed over is bringing them some comfort now, that they can feel the love he has for them.

Marcus seems to know what Louis is thinking because he pats him on the forearm. “They can feel it, Louis,” he says simply.

Louis takes another long sip of his beer and takes a moment to digest what Marcus has told him, but there is something else that is bothering him, so he turns to Marcus and asks, “Is Harry one of my life mates?”

He’s suddenly nervous for the answer, because what he feels for Harry is deeper and unlike anything he’s ever felt for anyone in his life on Earth, and that includes all of the people that could be categorized as _life mates_. His love for Harry is on another level entirely, it’s almost ethereal and he really cannot imagine that he ever knew Harry on Earth because as melodramatic as it sounds, their love seems to have been made in the heavens.

Marcus studies Louis for a moment and then says emphatically, “No, Louis. Your family and deepest companions are your _life_ _mates_. Harry is your _soul mate_. That’s an entirely different ball of wax.”

“I thought so,” Louis answers. “Harry’s special, Marcus. The way I love him… Well, it’s just... I can’t even describe it.” He finishes his pint and has no sooner set the empty glass on the bar before the bartender is bringing him and Marcus over a fresh frosty glass of the chilled brew. Marcus nods to the bartender in thanks and stares at Louis, considering his words.

“A _soul_ _mate_ is something completely different than a life mate, Louis. The greatest gift in the universe is to be loved by another person, and a soul mate is the greatest love the universe has to offer. It’s the most sacred thing there is.” He lets out a slow breath. “I know they bat about the term ‘soul mate’ on Earth, but the reality is that while many people are blessed to have great loves in their lifetime, very few are lucky enough to meet their soul mates while they are still alive. Soul mates most often happen in the Afterlife, although there are exceptions.”

“I knew it,” Louis answers. “I mean, I guess I never really had ‘great love’ on Earth,” and he makes air quotes to emphasize his point. “I truly did love my wife, Eleanor, although I don’t think I was ever _in love_ with her.” Louis pauses and closes his eyes for a moment, willing himself to continue. “There was an artist…” His voice gets quieter as he speaks. “Even though that relationship was a mess and he wasn’t good for me… I did love him.”

Louis looks down at his glass and pauses for a minute. He feels wholly unraveled, like he is completely exposing himself to Marcus, but Marcus is not only his advocate, but he’s also his friend and if he’s going to be fully honest with anyone outside of Harry, then that person surely is Marcus. He raises his glass to his lips and takes a long sip, allowing the icy amber fluid to wash over him. “But I promise you, Marcus. What I thought was love before... Well, it’s just absolutely nothing compared to what I feel for Harry. My love for him… It’s the purest thing I’ve ever felt.”

Marcus smiles sympathetically. “I understand, Louis. That’s how I feel about my wife. My love for her is the greatest thing I’ve ever known. I imagine that’s what you feel for Harry.”

“I do. Marcus!” Louis sits up straight on his barstool, his voice suddenly animated, “Do you know that Harry and I have complimentary tattoos… all over our bodies, Marcus. Tattoos that we each got when we went into shops intending on getting tattoos of entirely different things. They… they line up. It’s almost as if we went in to get them _together_ , but we didn’t even know each other on Earth,” Louis marvels. “It’s like the universe knew we were meant to be.”

Marcus smiles. “Destiny,” he states simply. “My wife and I don’t have corresponding tattoos, but there were some experiences that connected us during our final lifetimes that prove to us we were meant to be together here in the Afterlife. Destiny… serendipity… it all adds up to soul mates, Louis.”

“Marcus, you said that I’ll know my life mates when we meet on this side, even if we meet them as different people than we knew on Earth, yeah?”

“Yes. I can promise you, Louis, on this side of life when you meet your parents and siblings and all those friends that mattered most to you, you will know and recognize them, regardless if they are exactly the same person you knew on Earth or not.”

“Okay,” Louis answers resolutely, nodding his head. “But… um… worst case scenario. If I get sent back…” Louis swallows because he hates that he’s even thinking this way, but he has to ask the question and he absolutely _has_ to know the answer. “Worst case scenario I get sent back to Earth… when I come back here again and I move forward, will I know Harry?”

At first Marcus doesn’t answer, he just looks at Louis, as if trying to consider his words carefully.

“Louis,” Marcus implores, but before he can finish his thought, Louis barrels on, his pleading voice barely above a whisper. “Will I know him, Marcus? Will I recognize him? Please, I’m begging you to tell me the truth.”

Marcus lets out a deep breath and his shoulders momentarily sag before he sits upright and looks Louis straight in the eyes, his expression deadly serious. “Louis,” he starts again, and there is something in his voice that sends panic shooting through Louis’ body. “I am fighting for you to move forward. You are my _only_ case right now and I believe you are worthy of advancement and I intend to prove that to the justices.” Louis just stares at Marcus, willing him to continue because he knows all of this. He knows Marcus is working to ensure that he wins his Review and advances, but that’s not what Louis is concerned about. What he’s concerned about is Harry.

Marcus seems to read Louis’ mind and so he continues speaking, even though it’s obvious by his tone that he knows what he is sharing will probably upset Louis. “However, if for some reason the justices send you back to Earth to be born again, then the answer to your question is ‘no’, Louis. _If_ you return to Earth to live another lifetime, when you come back here after you next pass over and return to the Afterlife, then you won’t recognize or in any way know Harry. He will be a complete stranger to you.”

Louis closes his eyes for a moment; he feels his heart pounding in his chest, his head spinning with worry and doubt. “But Marcus, _we’re soul mates_. We love each other. I’ve never felt love before like the love that I have for him. Certainly if I’ll remember my friends and family, I’ll remember Harry?” Louis’ voice cracks on the end, the enormity of what Marcus has told him almost too much to bear.

“Louis, the people you loved on Earth are those you travel with throughout this journey. Your time on Earth is temporal, however your connection to your life mates is boundless. They are like your anchors in the universe.”

“But isn’t a soul mate a bigger deal than a life mate? Why isn’t that forever too? I don’t understand!” Louis cries and he pounds his fist on the bar. A couple seated near the end looks up at him in surprise and Marcus waves to them in apology.

“Louis, if Harry and you were bonded on Earth that would be one thing, but even though Harry’s your soul mate, you met him _here_ ,” and Marcus holds out his palms, indicating their surroundings for emphasis. “If an Intake is sent back to Earth, everything that happens to them in the Afterlife is completely erased from their consciousness.”

“Yeah, but –”

“When an Intake returns to Earth, Louis, they have a fresh slate: a _tabula rasa_ , some might say. An Intake doesn’t remember what happens in the Afterlife because if they did, they wouldn’t live an honest life; they’d simply take chances and be completely fearless whether they wanted to or not in order to move forward when they next passed over. It would be a life without purpose, a life lived only for advancement, and that would be a truly rootless and selfish existence.”

Louis shakes his head. “It just doesn’t seem fair. I love him so much, Marcus. It seems wrong that I won’t know him if I come back again. I can’t imagine not knowing him. There’s _no way_ I could ever forget him,” he adds defiantly. “I don’t believe it.”

“Louis, you were here in Judgment City, UK, a little over thirty years ago,” Marcus says, his voice gentle. “Do you remember _anything_ about your last stay? Anything at all?”

Louis closes his eyes and thinks because if he can remember even one thing about this place from his time before, then that means Marcus is wrong and if he gets sent back he _will_ remember Harry when he returns. He concentrates as hard as he can, his mind racing until he finally gives in, his eyes welling with tears. “No,” he answers softly, and he rubs his palms over his closed eyes.

Marcus again squeezes Louis’ shoulder. “That’s how it’s supposed to be, Louis. When you move forward and live here permanently, then you will remember everything that happens here. But if you go back to Earth, you get a fresh start, a fresh life experience in which to grow and learn and believe it or not, most people _do_ grow and learn with every life they live. Your experiences from each lifetime leave an imprint on you and that’s a part of the reason most do better which each subsequent phase of their existence. But a person doesn’t remember the Afterlife because this experience would dramatically alter their whole way of living.”

Louis feels utterly crushed at Marcus’ words.

Marcus’ turns on his stool to face Louis straight on. “I know this is a lot to take in, and I know it’s difficult to hear. I’m only telling you all of this because I believe in being completely honest with you. A soul mate is a very special thing and meeting a soul mate is something that almost always happens on this side because it is the truest, most permanent love the universe has to offer. But if both soul mates don’t move forward… Well, that bond is broken. It’s sad and it’s unfair and it seems wrong, but it’s true.”

“Would he recognize me? If I got sent back and came back again, I mean. Would Harry recognize me if he saw me? I know I would look different, be a different person, but would he know me, Marcus?”

“If you were to be sent back to Earth and born again and Harry has moved forward and should happen to see you when you’ve returned, then yes, he would recognize you, Louis, but you wouldn’t recognize him. You wouldn’t know him at all because when you previously knew him, it was on _this_ side. I know it’s confusing, but the universe has worked this way since the dawn of time. The system isn’t always perfect, but for the most part, the universe is wonderful and it gets it right. You just need to have faith.”

Louis ducks his head. “It’s just… It’s not fair, Marcus.”

“Not everything in the universe is fair, Louis.”

Louis feels his heart clench in his chest. “Marcus,” he says, and his voice is pleading. “I-I can’t go back. Harry is going to move forward and I have to go with him. He’s everything to me. You _have_ to win this thing… I… Well, I’m begging you, Marcus. You have to win.” Louis feels like he is falling into a black hole; he clutches his chest and squeezes his eyes shut, worry having completely overtaken him, anxiety rushing through his system and replacing his blood.

“Louis, calm down. I need you take a deep breath for me,” Marcus says, his voice sure as he places his hand on top of Louis’. Louis draws in a huge shaky breath of air through his nose and exhales it out through his mouth. He takes one more for good measure, and then another, and as he pushes the air out of his lungs, he feels himself start to relax, the tight spring of anxiety that encases his nerves beginning to uncoil in his chest.

“S-sorry,” Louis says, and he shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. Marcus squeezes his hand and Louis is comforted by his touch. “It’s just… Today’s Review was really good, yeah? But yesterday’s wasn’t so great and this morning Harry told me about his and he’s practically a star – and _four_ days!” Louis exclaims, holding up four fingers for emphasis. “Harry is only looking at four days, Marcus! I’ve just felt so nervous since he told me that and I can’t help but compare our situations. I’m trying to make it go away, but I feel this threat of being sent back simmering below the surface.” Louis sighs heavily and as he looks at Marcus and continues, his voice sad. “I keep thinking about what will happen if I have to leave Harry. It’s like this persistent, annoying fly that keeps coming ‘round whenever I feel happy and buzzing in my ear and it’s absolutely distracting and terrifying.”

“Louis,” Marcus says, and his voice is serious. “You’re feeling the way you do because you have something huge at stake and also because you had experiences during your lifetime that have hurt your confidence and made you doubt yourself and doubt the strength of your love. But let me promise you, I am fighting for you.” Louis nods his head rapidly. “The only _goal_ I have right now is to win this case for you. But you have to do your part by not worrying about what happens in Harry’s Review and just focus on presenting the best _you_ that you possibly can. You’re doing great so far. You knocked it out of the park today, and I know that you can keep up the good work. But I can’t do this alone. I need you to believe in yourself, do you understand?”

Louis nods his head again, because he really does understand, he just feels so… _afraid_.

Louis leans over the bar and drops his head into his hands. “Fuck,” he whispers.

He draws in another deep breath and then considers Marcus’ words, realizing his attitude is shit and he needs to get his head on straight and have a little confidence in himself if he expects to win this thing. He sits upright, pushing his shoulders back and holding his head high. He turns to Marcus, his tone resolute. “We’re going to win my Review, Marcus.”

The slightest hint of a smile passes over Marcus’ lips. “That’s the attitude I need from you, Louis. We’re in this together. We both need to fight for you.” He holds out his fist and Louis bumps it with his own, nodding his head.

 

*****

 

Louis doesn’t know if it’s due to Marcus’ half hour pep talk between their second and third pint of beer; seeing Harry’s blissed-out and sun-kissed face when he arrives at the clubhouse after he finishes his round with Payne; or if it’s simply his own resolve to stop fretting so much over the outcome of his Review, but something clicks inside of him and he’s able to put his fear behind him and enjoy the rest of the afternoon with Harry and their friends.

The three pints of beer certainly don’t hurt, but Louis doesn’t care, he’s just so glad that his smile is genuine when Harry approaches him at the bar announcing that he’d never had so much fun on a golf course or played so well during all his time on Earth, and that the only thing missing from the whole experience was his best mate, Niall, who, given the circumstances, he’s very happy _wasn’t_ in attendance. Louis throws his arms around Harry and squeezes him tight, his body buzzing with alcohol and his mind calm in the belief that he will move forward, the bitter seed of doubt having finally been pushed below the surface.

The four go outside to have dinner on the porch overlooking the course and Louis and Harry dine on a smorgasbord of fresh seafood and crunchy corn on the cob while Marcus and Payne eat foods in colors and textures that Louis can hardly look at, much less comprehend eating.

Louis holds Harry’s hand under the table as Harry and Payne tell him all about their golf game using terms such as “bogey” and “handicap” and “par” that Louis doesn’t slightly understand. Harry blushes when Payne comments that he is one of the best, most serious amateur golfers he’s ever had the pleasure of golfing with and Louis never felt so proud because Harry belongs to him and everyone at the table seems to recognize how wonderful he truly is. When Harry passes Louis a ramekin of melted butter for the heaping pile of succulent crab legs plated before them, Louis can’t help himself and he whispers in his ear, “We’re moving forward together, love,” and Harry’s face lights up like Christmas morning and he leans in, unabashedly kissing Louis in front of Payne and Marcus. “Of course we are, Lou,” he replies, as if there isn’t a doubt in the universe that it’s going to happen.

After they say their goodbyes and climb on to the tram to take them back to The Regency, Harry pulls Louis in close, pressing soft kisses to his hair and repeatedly telling him he loves him and how much he appreciates that Louis was so thoughtful to arrange a day of golf for him. Louis closes his eyes and takes it all in, because aside from his earlier mini-meltdown at the bar, the day has been utterly perfect.

Back at the hotel, they run into Donald at the main entrance, and he looks at his wristwatch and informs them they have just enough time to shower and change before the tram will arrive to take them to their _Five in Five_ screenings. “I’ve spoken to your concierge, Harry, and took the liberty of making your arrangements myself. You and Louis both have screenings at 8:35 PM, but you’ll need to be back here in the lobby in thirty minutes to catch the tram to the Future Exposition Center with the other Regency attendees.”

The two return to Louis’ room and take a hot shower, scrubbing each other’s bodies with soapy flannels and stealing kisses as they rinse bubbles of shampoo and conditioner down the drain. Before their kissing can get too heated though, Louis reminds Harry that they are on a schedule and there’s really no time for any heavy petting. Harry pouts because he really wants to suck Louis off and Louis comments that if he had known there would be blowies in the Afterlife he never would have been afraid of death during his time on Earth.

When they step out of the shower and towel off, Louis decides to style his hair in a quiff because he has his surprise planned for Harry later in the evening and Harry seemed to fancy the look on him when they attended the Elvis concert together.

Louis stands in front of the mirror completely nude and uses pomade and gel to slick his hair, holding a round styling brush in one hand and a hairdryer in the other to create the pompadour. Harry stands behind him as he works, rubbing his shoulders and pressing kisses down his spine, all the while telling Louis how gorgeous he is.

When Louis has finished, Harry uses just the smallest dollop of product for his own hair and runs the hair dryer back and forth over his tresses a few times before finishing the style with his fluff, swoop, and tug routine, and the result in that his loose curls look positively glossy and angelic. Louis thinks to himself that it’s really unfair that someone can look so beautiful with so little effort and isn’t he lucky that that someone belongs to him?

They brush their teeth and dress in fresh tupas and then head down to the lobby to wait for the tram to transport them to the Future Exposition Center. There are only seven or eight other Intakes in the lobby waiting for the tram and Louis is relieved to see Margaret and Peter are among them until he realizes someone is missing.

“Where’s Rowan?” he asks Peter, and Peter shakes his head.

“He wasn’t given this option, Louis. He left about a half hour ago to attend the _Past Lives Screening_.”

Louis feels the familiar tug of worry in his chest, but doesn’t allow himself to be pulled under. Rowan wasn’t invited to the _Five in Five_ screening and that’s disappointing because Rowan is one of their friends and he wants the best for him. But Louis _was_ given this opportunity and he needs to stay focused on that. He’s in the small percentage who will be attending the _Five in Five_ , and that’s a very good sign.

Harry, ever sensitive to Louis’ moods, takes his hand in his own and squeezes, pulling him close and whispering in his ear. “I’m sorry about your friend, Louis. But just because he’s not here doesn’t mean he won’t move forward or that he’s not okay. You and I are here together, just think about that,” and he kisses Louis’ cheek before pulling away.

Before long, the tram arrives and Louis and Harry sit behind Margaret and Peter and Harry tells them all about their afternoon golfing with Payne Stewart. “Louis arranged the entire thing,” he brags, and Louis blushes because that’s not entirely true, Marcus was really the one responsible for the golf outing, but it’s sweet Harry is giving him full credit. Harry looks at Louis then and he smiles happily. “We had so much fun, and afterwards we had the most delicious dinner; we ate seafood and drank pints and it was such a perfect day.”

Peter shares that he spent the afternoon playing footie at Shepherdshire, thanking Louis for the suggestion and the two exchange football stories while Margaret regales Harry with all the details of her latest spa visit, Harry agreeing that he’d really love to try a seaweed soak if his time in Judgment City permits.

When the tram pulls up to the Future Exhibition Center though, the mood suddenly changes and all of the passengers get very quiet. It’s like everyone on board knows that they are entering someplace sacred and they’re all keenly aware that this is going to be an emotional and difficult experience.

The building is a huge brick structure, ten stories tall and heavily detailed with beautiful stained glass windows that run in rows across its exterior from its foundation to its gabled roof. Upon closer look, Louis realizes the windows are adorned with colorful scenes of people engaging in the most mundane aspects of daily life. He’s is surprised to see that one window boasts the image a mother preparing a baby bottle for a crying infant, while the next window depicts a man mowing his lawn, and still another features a twenty-something sitting behind a computer, pounding away on the keyboard. There are stained glass windows featuring people dressed in athletic gear working out on treadmills, commuters riding the tube, and another depicting a small crowd laughing around a bar. People from all walks of life and races are represented, each window exquisite in its detail and rendering the most unassuming subjects of daily life in stunning detail.

These are certainly not the type of stained glass images that Louis ever saw on any church during his lifetime, but this isn’t his lifetime any more, so he’s not sure why he would expect anything different. He supposes that the windows celebrate life on Earth in all its stripped down glory because after all, why only pay tribute to god-like deities and pious icons when the common man and his daily struggles and endeavors are just as deserving?

The tram parks but nobody gets out of their seat to disembark; rather, a pretty petite blond woman who works as a representative of the Center climbs on board and takes the microphone to address the Intakes directly. Harry slides his arm behind Louis’ back and pulls him in close as the representative begins to speak.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Tabitha, and it’s my honor to welcome you all to the Future Exhibition Center and the _Five in Five_ video screening. You’re all here because you’ve been personally selected by the Chief Justices presiding over your Reviews to participate in this most unique experience and it’s our sincere hope that this screening is one that will ultimately bring you a sense of peace and closure. You’ve each been assigned an individual Screening Room on the fifth floor of the center and your screenings will begin at 8:35 on the nose. There is a countdown clock in each screening room that will indicate when your video will start and you are strongly encouraged to take your seat and get comfortable before the screening begins. You are _not_ required to stay for the full screening; if the experience is too intense you may exit the Screening Room at any time. Please be advised if you do stay for the entire video experience you will have ten minutes to recover in your private room and then you will be escorted to one of our many recovery areas so that the room can be readied for the next attendee. Most find they need an hour or two to process the experience before they are comfortable enough to leave the Center. Are there any questions?”

A woman sitting near the front of the tram that Louis doesn’t recognize raises her hand. “What exactly will we be viewing during these screenings?” she asks, and Tabitha smiles at her warmly.

“Your screening will be comprised of a five minute video clip of your family and loved ones on Earth. The videos each depict a single event or day five years in the future and are chosen to provide you an overall sense of how your loved ones are coping and carrying on after your death. I’m sure your Chief Justices have explained to you that during these clips, you will endure the grief associated with losing someone you love, the only caveat being that you will be experiencing these feelings from the perspective of one who has crossed over, as opposed to being one of the living who is left behind on Earth. Watching these videos tends to be a powerful and even heartbreaking experience, but I can assure you all that once the initial shock has passed, you will be greatly comforted by what you have seen.”

Another passenger raises his hand and announces that he’s changed his mind and doesn’t wish to view the video. Tabitha nods and tells him that as soon as the other passengers have exited the tram she’ll arrange for him to be transported to the Past Lives Pavilion for a _Past Lives_ _Screening_ instead. “Well then,” she says, “if anyone else would like to pass on this experience now would be a good time to do so, so that I might arrange your alternative screenings in a timely manner.”

Louis is surprised when two more passengers raise their hands, Peter being one of them.

“Peter, you don’t want to check in on your wife?” Margaret asks, her voice concerned. She places her hands on top of Peter’s and pats it gently. He turns in his seat so that he can direct his response to Margaret, Louis, and Harry, shaking his head and letting out a soft breath as he carefully answers.

“I was married to my wife for sixty-two years,” Peter replies. “She’s my childhood sweetheart and the love of my life. I’ve decided that when I see her again, I want to be able to touch her and hold her. We never had children, it was always just the two of us and when I think about her now, I’m so happy and complete. I don’t think I want to sully that with grief, even if the grief is only temporary.”

They all nod in understanding and Louis has the sense that Peter is one of the lucky few that Marcus told him about that actually met their soul mate on Earth.

“It sounds like you’ve made a smart decision, Peter,” he says, his voice sincere. He then lightens the mood adding, “I for one, can’t wait to hear all about all the lives you’ve lived. You’ll have to fill us in tomorrow on our ride to the Review Center. I bet you were a pirate and a Prime Minister in your previous lives, mate!”

Peter laughs, “Well, I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

Peter and the others staying behind all move to the front of the tram and Tabitha asks them to remain seated, promising to arrange their transportation to the Past Lives Pavilion as soon as she delivers the others to their individual Screening Rooms. As they are exiting the tram, Louis and Harry walk past Peter and Harry stops and pulls Peter into a hug, telling him that true love is the greatest gift in the universe and he’s so happy that he had that with his wife. Peter thanks him sincerely and whispers something in Harry’s ear that Louis does not hear.

“That was a lovely thing to say,” Louis says to him as they follow Tabitha and the others to the Center, holding hands as they make their way up the cobblestone path that leads to its main entrance. “I’m sure it meant a lot to Peter, Harry.”

“Well, it’s true, Louis. I could tell by his expression how much Peter loves his wife, and it’s exactly how I feel about you.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Louis temple. “Peter said he could tell that you and I love each other just as much as they did.”

Louis is at a loss for words, so he pulls Harry’s hand up to his mouth and kisses his knuckles, letting the gesture speak for him.

Tabitha guides the attendees through the huge wooden doors at the main entrance of the Center and Louis’ eyes open wide at what he sees before him. Upon entry, there is a small vestibule, on either side of which is a row of four lifts. But most notably, if one were to walk through the vestibule, they would enter a long, narrow nave, similar to that found in the church Louis attended as a child. A plush red carpet runs up its center aisle that is bordered by rows of long wooden pews where people dressed in tupas sit, some in quiet reflection and others crying uncontrollably. The walls on either side of the pews are covered in glass mosaic tiles artfully depicting the same type of everyday scenes that adorn the Center’s stained glass windows, but Louis also notices religious symbols and iconography from all types of faiths incorporated throughout the mosaics, which he realizes makes sense considering that religion is an intrinsic aspect of life on Earth for millions of people.

“This is just one of our recovery areas and is a favorite of many of our guests,” Tabitha says, pointing into the church-like hall. “Upstairs, you’ll find that the recovery suites are more secular, but all are designed to ensure optimal comfort and quietude.” She walks over to the lifts on the right side of the vestibule, pressing the up arrow. “Now then, let’s get you all settled in your rooms.”

The fifth floor of the Future Exhibition Center is comprised of a series of corridors that are broken up by small recovery areas boasting comfortable furnishings and boxes of tissue on nearly every available surface. Tabitha leads the small group from The Regency down a long hallway and then makes a sharp turn to the left, advising them that they’ve arrived at their bank of Screening Rooms. The group stands in a semicircle and Tabitha pulls a mini tablet computer out of her suit pocket and begins reading off names.

“Attenborough, Margaret,” she happily says, and Margaret carefully raises her hand. “You’re in room 506. Please follow me.” She ushers Margaret down the hallway and opens a door and Margaret scurries inside before Tabitha closes it behind her.

“Durante, Alexander,” Tabitha calls out upon her return and repeats the process with the next attendee.

Louis turns to Harry then, taking both his hands in his own. “This seems to be going alphabetically. You’ll be up before me, love.” Harry nods. He looks nervous and his hands are shaking and his palms are moist. “It’s going to be okay, Harry. We have each other and after our screenings, we can go to recovery together, alright?”

“Smith, Bailey,” Tabitha calls upon her return and then she escorts the woman who answers her call down the hallway and deposits her in yet another Screening Room.

“I’m just a bit nervous is all. I hope I made the right decision in coming here. It’s going to be hard seeing my family being together without me,” Harry says, his voice unsure. He pulls Louis into a hug.

“I know, darling, but it’s only a five minute video and if you want to leave, you can at any time, okay? You can even come knock on my room and I’ll leave my screening for you, I promise.”

“Louis, you don’t have to do that,” Harry answers, but he squeezes Louis tight and Louis knows he appreciates the offer.”

“I’ll do anything for you, Haz. I want you to be – ”

“Styles, Harry,” Tabitha interrupts, looking between Louis and Harry to discern who of the remaining two she is delivering to their room next. Harry gives Louis one last squeeze and then steps forward. She quickly leads him down the hall and opens a door on the far end, ushering him inside before returning to Louis.

“And you sir, are Tomlinson, Louis, I presume.”

Louis smiles and nods, “Yes, that’s me.”

“Right this way, Mr. Tomlinson,” she says and she leads Louis down the corridor, opening the door to a room that is directly across the hall from Harry’s. As he steps inside, Louis suddenly feels nervous, the anticipation of what he’s about to see making him anxious and unsure. Tabitha exits and closes the door behind her without so much as a goodbye as Louis quickly surveys his surroundings.

The first thing he notices is the large round countdown clock that is mounted on the wall directly facing him. It features a digital readout displaying one minute and twenty-six seconds, twenty-five seconds… twenty-four…

The room itself is relatively small, perhaps five by five meters in length and width and the wall on the left side is comprised of a large screen that encompasses its surface entirely. Positioned just off the center of the room, approximately three meters or so from the screen is an overstuffed leather chair, while a long suede couch covered in fluffy pillows and a quilted throw sits at an angle to its side. Between the couch and the chair is a coffee table and on it sit three boxes of tissues. A small counter and built in sink runs the back wall of the room, and there is also a hot beverage dispenser that features an offering of two different types of tea, coffee and hot chocolate. Cups, creamer, sugar, and a water dispenser are also provided. A metal trashcan rests in a niche below the sink. The room is simple enough, but with its thick shag carpeting, comfy furniture and dark grey walls, it’s nonetheless a very cozy environment that somehow feels… _safe_.

Louis looks back at the countdown clock and the time displayed reads forty-eight seconds. He’s not sure if he wants to sit in the chair or on the couch, but in the end he decides on the chair and he kicks his shoes off before he tucks into his seat, curling his legs to the side on the ample seat cushion and sitting back as he waits for his _Five in Five_ video to begin.

Five, four, three… The countdown clock ticks off the last few seconds and when it reaches one, the room goes dark and the viewing screen comes to life, the date _Saturday, 19 June 2027_ emblazoned in bold white letters across a black background before fading away and being replaced by a blurry field of white. As the film comes into focus, Louis realizes that what he is seeing is fabric: layers of satin, lace, and tulle embroidered with delicate white thread and adorned with sequins, beads, and tiny pearls.

“What – ” Louis starts to mumble, but before he can even finish his thought, he hears the familiar chitter-chatter of female voices and his heart beats heavy in his chest when he realizes that they are the voices of his mum and sisters.

“You look absolutely beautiful, darling.”

Louis draws in a gasp as he hears his mother speak and he instantly wants to go to her. He heard her speak twice in clips during his Review and he felt a burst of love each time. But now, hearing the soothing sounds of her voice coming to him in the context that he is _not_ part of the picture, the emotions he is experiencing are entirely different. Just as he was during his Review, Louis is overwhelmed with love, but it’s so much more than that now. He feels heaviness in his heart; a longing to be near her so great his chest starts to ache.

The camera pans higher and he realizes that what he is seeing is a wedding gown, the full skirt giving way to a narrow waist and arms that reach upwards, fingers flickering over the bottom edge of a sheer veil. The camera moves higher still and Louis sees the gown is strapless and by the cascades of blonde hair that fall over pale shoulders in fancy ringlets with intricate braids and tiny white flowers woven in, he is certain that the bride is his sister, Lottie. Finally, the film zooms in on her face, proving Louis right. He slaps his hand over his mouth and feels his eyes well with tears.

_Lottie is getting married and I’m not there._

Lottie looks absolutely stunning and somehow appears more mature than when Louis last saw her on Christmas before he died, like she’s suddenly transitioned from a carefree twenty-four-year-old to a fully formed woman and all Louis can think is that he wasn’t there to see it happen. Her makeup is softer than her usual style, but she’s Lottie just the same, and when she smiles, it’s the familiar shy grin that Louis always adored and seeing her look so happy on her wedding day is simultaneously wonderful and heartbreaking.

_I want to be there. Why can’t I be there with them?_

The first tears begin to fall down Louis’ cheeks and he wipes them away, trying to absorb the fact that the younger sister that he’s so close to is getting married and he’s not there to witness it in person. She wasn’t even dating when he died, and now she is going to be someone’s wife.

Louis remembers then that this clip takes place five years in the future, but instead of bringing him comfort, it seems to cause him more anguish, because in five years everything will be different and his family will have fully adapted to life without him. He feels a wave of nausea; his head dizzy and his entire being completely overwhelmed by the fact that he is dead and will never again get to spend another moment like a wedding, or a birthday, or even a simple Sunday dinner with his loved ones on Earth.

The camera zooms out and Louis watches as his sisters Fizzy, Daisy and Phoebe enter the scene, each dressed in bridesmaids’ dresses that are all a rich shade of periwinkle blue, but completely unique in design. _Like the girls who wear them_.

Just like Lottie, Fizzy has grown fully into womanhood and Louis is shocked when he notices her round belly and sees the ring on her finger. _She’s married and is expecting a baby and I’ve missed all of it. All of it!_

The tears begin to fall faster and Louis swallows thickly as he grabs a tissue off the coffee table, but he doesn’t raise it to his nose, rather he twists it in his hands in utter frustration at all that he is no longer a part of and all of the moments with his family he will never again share in.

The girls are talking excitedly, dabbing on lip gloss and toying with their hair. Phoebe and Daisy have grown from the teenagers he knows into adults he can barely recognize, yet they still carry the aura of youth about them; they’re only twenty-three, after all. They still look so much alike and as they speak they finish each other’s sentences and Louis chokes out a sob, because he always teased them about their “twin language” when they were little girls and he wants nothing more than to crack a joke and make them laugh again.

Louis’ hands reach out to the armrests of his chair and he grips them so tightly his fingers hurt, but he just needs to ground himself because the fact that he’ll never again get to watch movies with his little sisters or hear about their days, or listen to their fears and heartaches is making it hard for him to breathe and he’s not sure how much more he can take.

 _I left them and they’ve learned to live without me and they don’t need me anymore and now I’m just… I’m nothing to them now_.

Louis knows in his heart this isn’t true, he knows that his family would never simply forget him because he’s gone, but seeing them all so happy and celebrating together without him hurts him to the core of his being. He’s suddenly acutely aware of the separation that comes with death, and of what they must have gone through on the day he died, what they’re no doubt going through right now. He’s only been dead a few days, after all. They must be suffering so much and it’s his fault. He’s so profoundly sorry to have hurt them in such a way.

“Why did I buy that bloody car?” he cries out and then he draws in a breath, because the camera zooms in on Doris right then and she is standing in front of his mum and she’s no longer a little girl, but a teenager taller than anyone else in the room. She’s the prettiest redhead he’s ever seen, yet she’s not smiling, she looks sad. The camera moves closer and Louis’s body shakes and the tears fall faster and harder when he hears what she says.

“I wish Louis were here with us, mum.”

“ _I am here with you_ ,” Louis whispers through choked tears.

“He is here with us,” Jay answers and pulls Doris in for a hug. “He’s always with us, remember? Right here,” she says, and then she touches her fingers to her heart.

Louis feels like the floor has been pulled out from under him and he is falling through space. It’s like he is utterly powerless and completely broken, like he’ll never smile again, like the only thing he’ll ever know is the pain of being ripped away from his family when he was still a young man and still had so much to give to them and to experience with them.

_It’s not fair._

Just then, there’s a knock at the door and Louis’ stepdad Mark enters and another tide of grief rolls in and washes over Louis, his emotions so convoluted and intense that all he can do is shake his head and cry. He and Mark had resolved their issues a few years before Louis died, but he wishes he could speak to him one more time, to thank him for working on being a better person, to forgive him for not being the person he should have been.

“It’s time, love,” Mark says to Lottie and she nods her head. The screen fades to black.

Louis hops out of his seat, completely frantic. “This can’t be it! I didn’t even see my brother,” he says aloud, his voice thick with tears. He’s suddenly aware of the ticking of the countdown clock and he looks up at it and it reads two minutes, twenty-nine seconds, thirty seconds… thirty-one…

The screen comes back to life and Louis realizes the countdown clock is now functioning as a timer and he’s already halfway through his screening and _he needs more time_.

His entire family is assembled outdoors in front of a large wooden gazebo, its surface covered in ropes of ivy and woven with hydrangeas, clematis and bellflowers in brilliant shades of blue. They’re all lining up for a family photograph and the scene is utter chaos, his sisters switching places and their spouses and boyfriends – none of whom Louis recognizes – all following along agreeably. Louis’ mum tries to wrangle everyone into proper position and her husband Dan pulls up a wooden folding chair, wisely deciding that he’ll sit it out until Jay tells him exactly where he needs to be.

Louis grabs another tissue and blows his nose, his tears steadily falling as his heart aches with longing for the people he loves.

Louis’ younger brother, Ernest, enters the scene and Louis clutches his chest because he’s a teenager with shaggy blonde hair and he has the same build and stature as Louis had at thirteen. He’s carrying a football and Louis immediately thinks of the hours they spent kicking a ball around when Ernest was a small child, Louis determined to teach the little brother he always wanted how to play.

“Ernest Deakin, this is your sister’s wedding day, not a football match,” Jay chastises and Ernest shrugs his shoulders and carries the ball over to Fizzy. He holds the ball up to her belly.

“If it’s a boy, I’m going to teach him to play.”

“Ah, that’s lovely,” Fizzy answers. Her voice goes soft and she rubs her hand over her belly. “Do you remember how Louis used to play with you when you were growing up?”

Ernest nods his head and smiles. “Yeah, I’m going to be just like him.” Louis feels like his heart might explode in his chest, Ernest’s words filling him with pride and joy, but also sorrow and regret.

Fizzy runs her fingers through his hair. “Well, what are you going to do if I have a girl, then?”

“I don’t discriminate,” Ernest answers, his voice indignant. “I can teach a girl to play, just as easy.”

“That’s my boy,” Louis whispers and he wants to reach out to him, to tell his brother that he’s proud of him, that he wants him to grow up to be brave and kind and most of all be true to himself.

His hands start to tremble and his heart beats rapidly in his chest at the realization that he’ll never get to speak to his little brother about anything again. He’ll never teach him how to drive a car, or have “the talk” about girls and sex, or boys and sex for that matter. He’ll never take Earnest out for pints on his birthday or attend another footie match with him. Louis hoped for years to have a baby brother and then his wish finally came true, but he only had eight years to spend with him before they were separated by Louis’ death. Now his brother will have to spend his entire lifetime without a brother of his own: without Louis. It’s so cruel and once again the same thought that has been flashing through his mind since this screening started punches him in the gut and leaves him breathless. _It’s not fair_.

The lineup starts to come together, Mark standing next to Lottie and her new husband on one side, the newlyweds flanked by Jay and Dan on the other. Fizzy is still attempting to help Jay arrange her sisters, when Lottie looks at Fizzy and her voice is suddenly panicked.

“Fiz, did you bring it?” she asks, her eyes wide.

“Of course I did, I would never forget. Liam is holding it for me.” Fizzy turns around and cups her mouth with her hands, “Liam!” she shouts and Jay rolls her eyes and sighs, “This is a wedding, Félicité!”

Louis collapses back onto the chair then, his feet flat on the floor and his knees shaking as he leans in to watch the screen. Liam quickly walks into the frame and he’s holding the hand of a woman and Louis draws in a shocked breath because the woman is not Sophia, the girl Liam was madly in love with when Louis died, but rather, he’s holding hands with Danielle, his teenage sweetheart.

 _“Bloody hell, how did that happen?”_ Louis wonders, then he lets out a sob, because he’ll never know the answer. His best mate’s entire life is going to change and he won’t get to be a part of it. He won’t get to help Liam through his break up with Sophia the way that Liam helped him through his divorce, or marvel with him at how wonderful it is that he and Danielle found their way back together. His heart aches that they’ll never again share a laugh at their local pub, that he’ll never be able to tell Liam how much he means to him, and he feels like shit for being so jealous, but he worries that one day Liam will find a new best mate to replace him.

Liam is wearing a tailored black suit and he looks utterly dashing and when he turns to look back at Danielle, he positively radiates love. Louis always liked Danielle and he’s so glad that Liam seems so happy, but still, _“Why aren’t I there with them? How come they’re so happy without me?”_

It’s only when Liam approaches Fizzy does Louis notice that Liam is carrying something in his hand: it’s wooden, flat, and rectangular in shape and Louis closes his eyes for a moment because he’s quite certain he knows what it is and when Fizzy touches her fingers to her lips and kisses them and then presses those same fingers onto the surface of the object Liam is holding, he’s absolutely sure. Liam hands the object to Fizzy and she clutches it to her chest for a moment before holding it away from her body, staring at it fondly.

Jay leans over and mimics Fizzy’s action, kissing her fingertips and pressing them to the object. “My sweet baby,” she whispers and lets out a heavy sigh. Louis sobs as everyone else in his family repeats the gesture, even the husbands of his sisters, men he has never met, and Liam and Danielle, all peck kisses to their fingertips and press them against the flat rectangle that Fizzy holds in her hands. When everyone has finished, Fizzy leans over to her husband and yanks the handkerchief out of his breast pocket, wiping it over the rectangle and whispering, “You’re all smudging him up,” before handing the hankie back to him. She’s quiet then, staring at what she holds until finally her face relaxes into a soft smile of acceptances.

The camera pans to Liam and he’s wiping tears from his eyes and Danielle is whispering to him, “I know how much you miss him. He’d want you to be happy, especially today, when all the people he loved best are here together.” Liam nods in agreement, bites his lip and then manages a crooked smile.

Ernest walks over to Fizzy then and says, “I want to hold him.”

She smiles and kisses his forehead. “I’ll hold him for this one and you can hold him next, I promise. We’ll be taking lots of pictures today and we’re going to want him in the very special ones with all of us, okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees.

The photographer stands in front of the group then, “Can you take your places, everyone?” she asks. She looks utterly frazzled and Louis is not surprised because getting his family organized for a photograph was never an easy task. “ _And something I’ll never be a part of again_ ,” he thinks and he’s quite certain the pain he’s enduring is the worst kind of heartache anyone has ever known. The photographer gestures with her hands for everyone to move in closer together and when they’re all properly positioned, Fizzy flips the item she’s holding around so that it faces forward.

Louis is not at all surprised by what he sees, but it guts him just the same.

It’s a framed photograph: of Louis, of course. The picture was taken on the day his mother married Dan and in it Louis is wearing a dark blue suit but only the stiff white collar of his dress shirt is visible because the photograph is a close up of Louis’ face. His hair is styled in a loose quiff, not unlike the one he is sporting now, and his mouth is split into a wide grin, his eyes crinkled in delight. He looks utterly happy and Louis remembers the moment the picture was taken, how Liam had cracked a joke and the photographer snapped the picture just as he opened his mouth to laugh.

Louis slides off his chair then and lands on his knees on the plush carpeting below. He sits upright and clutches his thighs and forces himself to look at the screen even though he’s quite certain he’s going to collapse at any moment. He knows the video will be over soon and he can’t bear the thought of leaving his family, he just wants to stay with them, he loves them so much and they are all lost to him.

Fizzy holds the picture up so that it’s positioned directly in front of her swollen belly. “Make sure you get Louis in focus,” she yells to the photographer, tapping on the frame with her index finger. The photographer nods and answers, “I promise that every last one of you will be in focus, even if we’re here all day.”

Ernest groans. “I really hope this doesn’t take all day. I’m getting hungry,” and as Jay shushes him, Louis realizes that he’ll never again get to be playfully chastised by his mother. He’ll never get to pull her in for a hug and tell her how much he appreciates how hard she always worked for her family, how grateful he is that she always stood by him, no matter what the circumstances were. He'll never again enjoy the warmth and safety of being held in her arms, or get to breathe in her scent, or hear her laughter. Louis cries out then, but his sob is so choked that the only sound he makes is a squeaking noise followed by a series of stuttering breaths as his body shakes and hot tears fall down his cheeks. He’s positively broken.

The photographer shouts, “Say ‘cheese’!” and the members of his family all smile brightly, reciting the word. She pulls back her camera and looks at the screen, “Yeah, we’re going to need to try that again.” Everyone laughs and she shoots another picture and as she does, the camera zooms out over the crowd of wedding guests that are seated at round tables or milling about, some lingering on the dance floor waiting for the photography session to be over so that the real party can begin, others flanking the bar.

Louis gasps as the camera pans over and lingers on Eleanor, who is seated at a table with her husband, Max, an adorable toddler with long brown hair sitting on her lap. His heart is sincerely heavy at seeing her: for the hurt he caused her by not being able to love her like she deserved, for the life he once imagined they would have together. He feels the conflicting emotion of utter joy and a pang of jealousy at the way she looks so happy with her husband and her child because Louis always wanted a family of his own and that’s just another heartache in a long list of dreams that he’ll never get to fulfill or experience.

He chokes out a laugh as the image pans to the bar and he sees his childhood friends Stan and Oli and other members of his footie team standing in front of it, Stan raising a shot glass in a toast and the entire lot of them drinking one down together and then slamming their fists down at the sour, stinging taste of the whiskey. His smile quickly fades when it hits him how much he wants to be standing there drinking a shot with them and that he’ll never get to do that again.

The camera moves along and passes over aunts and uncles, pausing to focus on favorite cousins and family friends, and it feels like everyone that mattered most in Louis’ life are all here to celebrate his sister’s marriage, an event that he won’t be alive to attend. He loves all of them and he wants to be with them. He wants to get drunk with Liam and lecture his sister’s new husband on how he needs to treat her properly. “ _He’s married my sister and I don’t even know his name_ ,” he thinks.

_It isn’t bloody fair._

Once again, the video returns to his family, who are still gathered in front of the gazebo for wedding pictures. One by one, the camera zooms in on the faces of the people Louis loves the most in the world, starting with Lottie, then Fizzy, Phoebe, and so on, until he’s had one last look at all of his siblings, both his stepfathers, and then Liam, who stands off to the side with Danielle. The camera zooms in on the photograph of him that Fizzy holds reverently in her hands and then it pans up and the final close-up is of his mother. Louis actually stretches his arms toward the screen then and cries out for her, this time his voice loud and ringing through the room.

The image transitions to one last long shot of his family, who are all laughing and chattering as the photographer snaps another picture. The shot freezes then and the sounds of laughter and the voices he loves best fade away. The clock on the wall ticks. The screen fades to black and the lights in the room come up. Louis collapses face down onto the carpet and wails.

Louis’ cries are guttural, like his whole being is broken, the pain of losing his loved ones completely devastating and all-encompassing. He cries for every event like his sister’s wedding that he’ll never get to attend. He cries for the birthdays he’ll miss, the graduation parties, and the holiday dinners.

 _The holidays. Christmas._ Louis feels a wave of fresh grief as he imagines how his family must suffer on Christmas Eve, which also happens to be his birthday. He wonders if by the fifth year without him they’re able to enjoy the day without grieving over him. He hopes he hasn’t ruined every Christmas for them. He hates that he’s done this; that he’s left them in such a brutal way.

He cries for his sisters and his brother who will someday get married or have partners and become parents and raise families that Louis will never know. He clutches his stomach and rolls to his side when he considers that he’ll never experience the joys of fatherhood; he’ll never know what it’s like to raise children of his own.

He grieves that he’ll never grow old, never will feel the passage of time beyond thirty years, will never know what it’s like to live a long and happy life and he worries that as his mother and siblings grow older he’ll become less real to them and nothing more than a faded memory that they take out and consider on holidays and special occasions. Maybe they’ll forget what his voice sounds like, or how he liked to pull faces at the dinner table when his mum wasn’t looking to make his sisters laugh. Maybe they’ll stop sharing stories about him, or remembering the fun they had when he was a part of the family. Maybe they’ll stop missing him altogether.

God, he’s so fucking selfish. He shouldn’t want the people he loves to mourn over him forever, to not move forward in their lives because they are so grief-stricken over his death, but if he’s being honest with himself, in this very moment, when his body is wracked with grief and his pain is so real it physically hurts, a tiny part of him wants exactly those things, he wants the ones he loves to miss him and think about him every day, the same way he misses and thinks about them. He curls up into a tight ball then and lets out a pained sob for entertaining such a hateful and selfish thought.

Louis is completely undone, his grief now peppered with anger over his life being cut so short and jealousy that he no longer gets to walk the Earth and be with his family and friends. His heart aches at the fact that one day he’ll have been dead far longer than he ever was alive and the people that he cares about will experience every morning, every nightfall, every thunderstorm, and every sunny afternoon without him.

_I miss my family._

_I’ll never have children._

_I’ll never grow old._

_My life is over._

_I am ashes and dust._

Louis buries his face in his palms and he sobs and the clock ticks on the wall and he knows he has to pull himself together, he knows this pain will pass and he’ll be able to think about all of the people he’s lost and he’ll be comforted by how well they are doing without him. He’ll feel happy and thankful for their peace and he’ll be grateful for the years he’s had with them. Right now though, he’s hurting and it’s unbearable, but he knows that in an hour or two, all he will feel is the love.

 _The love is all that remains_.

Louis closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath through his stuffy nose and as he exhales, one thought comes to mind.

 _Harry_.

Shit. He’s got to get to Harry.

He jumps up off the floor and grabs a handful of tissues, blowing his nose. He runs over to the sink and turns on the faucet and splashes cold water over his face, cupping his hands and repeating the gesture several times. He grabs a hand towel off the counter and quickly pats his face as he slips on his shoes. He doesn’t look at the clock and he doesn’t give it a second thought, he just runs out of the room and across the hall to Harry’s door.

He stops short of bursting in and instead presses his palms to the wooden panel. He can hear the sound of Harry crying coming from inside and he needs to go to him, but he doesn’t want to intrude. He knows this is a deeply personal experience and he doesn’t know what Harry wants. Maybe he wants to be alone in his misery. But Louis doesn’t want to be alone and maybe Harry feels the same way, so he takes a chance and he knocks softly.

“Haz,” he says, his voice thick with tears.

“Louis?” comes a cry from inside the room.

“Can I come in?” Louis asks, and he presses his forehead against the door and hopes the answer is ‘yes’ because he’s never needed anything more in the universe than he needs to throw his arms around Harry right now and feel Harry’s arms around him in return.

“Please, Louis. Please, come in. I need you.” Louis closes his eyes in gratitude and turns the handle. The room is set up exactly like the one Louis just came from and as he enters, all he can hear are Harry’s choked breaths and jagged cries but he doesn’t see him at first. He takes a step around the couch then and croaks out a sob when he sees Harry curled into a tight ball at the end of the couch, crying into a pillow.

“Oh, darling,” Louis says and he rushes over to him. Harry throws his arms out then and pulls Louis on top of him, Harry stretching out his legs and then wrapping them around Louis’ thighs to cocoon him in an all-encompassing hug. Louis doesn’t think anyone has ever held him so tight and the two just lie there intertwined, not saying a word as tears flow between them.

Finally, after several minutes have passed, Harry sits up and pulls Louis so close he’s practically on his laps, their arms still hugging each other tight.

“They’re lives go on without us, Lou,” he whispers, his voice raw and thick. Louis nods his head.

“I know, Harry,” he replies and nuzzles his cheek against Harry’s jaw. “I love them so much and I’m… I almost feel _jealous_ that I don’t get to be there with them. I feel guilty for thinking this way,” Louis replies, the honesty of his words embarrassing, but undeniable.

“I feel the exact same way,” Harry answers and then he squeezes Louis tighter, if that’s even possible. “They promised us this pain will pass, but I don’t know that I would have done this if I had known how bad it would hurt. It’s like, I’m grieving over someone who has died and _that someone_ is me and it’s the strangest and most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“It’s not what I expected at all,” Louis agrees, his voice cracking as he speaks. “I just miss them all so desperately and I guess I hadn’t felt that kind of longing until tonight. I was so ignorant to how much this kind of loss hurts. We’ve been so lucky so far, not to suffer the type of pain our families are feeling on Earth. I’m so sad for what I know they’re going through right now, and I finally understand because I’m going through it myself.”

Louis feels fat tears roll down his cheeks and they sting. He draws in a shuddering breath and stands, determined that he and Harry can help each other through this. He takes Harry’s hands in his own and helps him up off the couch, leading him to the sink. “If you splash a bit of cold water on your face, you might feel a little better, Haz. It helps.”

Harry does as he’s told and as he’s patting his face dry, Louis pours them both a glass of ice water, which they quickly gulp down. They’re about to walk back over to the sofa when there’s a knock on the door informing them that Harry’s time in the room is up. They open it to leave and find Tabitha standing on the other side, asking if they need assistance to one of the recovery areas.

Harry looks at Louis and says, “I don’t want to go to a recovery area. I’d rather take a walk. Would you want to do that, Louis?”

Louis reaches out his hand and cradles Harry’s cheek. “Sure, love. That sounds wonderful, actually.”

Tabitha nods enthusiastically. “A walk is an excellent way to work through what you’re both enduring right now. When you get your heart rate going and your blood pumping it expedites the entire recovery process. I’ve been pushing for treadmills or at least a walking track to be added to our facilities for years, but the vast majority of Intakes prefer to sit or recline as they work through their grief, so there really is no point. But it’s always been my contention that sitting around is no good for anyone, it only drags out the process longer,” she says with a shrug.

Louis finds himself almost smiling at her enthusiasm and he guesses that that’s a good sign because for a brief moment he doesn’t feel like his world is falling apart.

Tabitha directs Louis and Harry to the lifts and tells them that if they head east when they exit the building they’ll be moving in the direction of the residential area. “There are tram stops everywhere, but if you choose to walk, you’re only four or five kilometers from the hotels and that’s not very far at all. I suggest you walk; the fresh air and exercise will do you both good.” This time, Louis does smile because Tabitha really is a curt and bossy little thing.

They exit the center clutching hands tightly and heading east as Tabitha directed. Harry is quiet as they walk along the pretty brick foot-pavement that winds through the city; the occasional tear still falling down his cheeks. Louis doesn’t speak either at first, lost in his own heartache, but after four or five blocks he tells Harry about Chief Justice Wen’s breathing exercises and how they have helped him to relax during his Review and when he feels nervous or anxious. They do the exercises together, drawing deep breaths in through their noses, holding them in and then blowing them out through their mouths. With every breath Louis takes, he feels the tiniest bit of his sorrow lift, replaced by a sense of calm and love instead and he hopes Harry feels the same.

After walking another kilometer or so, they approach the same park they visited on their first day of Review.

“Let’s go in, Louis,” Harry says and he pulls Louis toward the entrance. “I want to go sit on our bench and try to sort this all out. My feelings, I mean. I’m kind of a mess right now.”

“Harry,” Louis answers, his own voice still tainted with grief. “We can do whatever you like, love. We’re going to start feeling better soon, I promise.”

“I know we will,” Harry answers. “I’m already starting to feel a bit more calm. I think your breathing exercises really helped, Lou.”

They quietly walk along the illuminated path, still holding hands as they navigate the park. They find the little hidden alcove by the reflecting pool and sit down on the same bench they sat on the day before. It’s the bench where Harry told Louis all about his skiing accident and his coma and how difficult it was for him to cross over. It’s the same bench where they kissed and kissed until they were both breathless and dizzy with desire. It’s been a little over a day and a half since they first sat on that bench together, yet it feels like a lifetime has passed.

“Yesterday feels like a million years ago,” Louis says, breaking the silence. “We barely knew a thing about each other the last time we sat here and now I feel like I know you better than I’ve ever known anyone.”

Harry pulls Louis in close, turning his body so that Louis’ legs are splayed over his lap, extending across the bench seat. He wraps his arms around Louis’ waist to support him and Louis rests his head on Harry’s chest. He feels completely comfortable and utterly safe. He continues speaking.

“What we just went through, Harry. I don’t think I’ve ever endured anything so painful, but I’m starting to feel… I’m starting to feel _relief_ , actually, and it’s wonderful, so I’ll do whatever you need to help you feel the same.”

Harry presses a kiss to the top of Louis’ hair but he doesn’t speak, and Louis can feel Harry’s breathing is still heavy, that he’s still mired in sorrow. It’s so strange, but his desire to help Harry has seemed to help Louis in dealing with his own heartache; it’s certainly taken his mind off the pain of separation and he realizes that for the first time since the screening, he can think about Lottie’s wedding and actually feel… _happy_.

They sit and hold each other and Louis starts to think about his video not in the framework of his own sorrow, but rather in terms of how much love his family will continue to carry for him. He won’t get to attend his sister’s wedding, he’ll be long dead when it happens five years from now, but he will be a part of it, his family will _make_ him a part of it and they will think about him and include him throughout the day. They’ll talk about him and they will display his picture, and they’ll continue to love him, Louis is sure of that and he’s just as sure that they will continue to feel his love, too.

It’s wonderful, really, and suddenly Louis is so grateful that he watched the video and was able to see how well everyone is doing. They miss him, and they’re thinking about him, but they’re also carrying on in the best possible way.

Not for the first time tonight, Louis feels tears roll down his cheeks, but this time, they’re tears of joy.

“It was my birthday,” Harry says suddenly, interrupting Louis’ thoughts. Louis sits up and looks at Harry and Harry carefully drags his thumbs beneath Louis’ eyes, collecting his tears.

“Your video clip was of your birthday, Haz?” Louis asks tentatively, and Harry nods his head and the smallest smile breaks on his lips.

“Yeah, everyone was together to celebrate. It wasn’t a party really, more like a remembrance, but all of my family was there, and Niall and his family, and just a lot of people I cared about.”

“Oh, Harry, that’s so nice that they wanted to honor you like that.” Harry nods his head and then lets out a little choked laugh.

“My mum looked so pretty and she was putting out food and they had my pictures everywhere, not just of me, but of my whole family and my friends. My mum put the picture that was taken of Niall and me the day of the school fire and used it as the table centerpiece. We were both covered in soot and looked a mess, but when Niall saw it on the table, well it made him really happy, but I could also tell it made him sad.”

Louis nods his head in understanding because what Harry is saying reminds him of the way his family displayed his own photograph and how all of his loved ones pressed kisses to it before they posed for their family photo. But he doesn’t say this to Harry, instead deciding just to listen to him and allow him to unburden himself without interruption. Louis relaxes his body and rests his head back on Harry’s shoulder.

“What else did you see, Harry?”

“Everyone was just talking and laughing and telling stories about me and all the predicaments I’d get into as a kid. My mum was laughing with my stepfather and my dad about the time I got stuck in the tree and Niall told a story about when he dared me to streak across the quad in Uni.”

“Harry! Did you really do that?” Louis asks and he has to sit up to get a look at him and he’s relieved to see that Harry is smiling almost bashfully.

“Yeah. Nialler could always get me on a dare. He knew I could never turn down one of his crazy schemes.” Louis settles in again on Harry’s chest and Louis recognizes that Harry’s tone sounds a bit lighter, a little less distressed.

“Then Gemma came in and she was with a man I’d never seen before and Louis, they were engaged! At first, I felt so happy for her, she looked so lovely and content, but then I started to feel so sad and angry that she was going to marry someone I would never know and I just felt… _cheated_.”

“I understand, love,” Louis replies, because he does.

“My entire family and the people I loved were all together and I couldn’t be a part of it; I’ll never be a part of another family gathering again and it just hurt so much to know that. I… I just wanted to talk to them one more time and I realized how much I miss them and it tore me apart.”

“How do you feel now, Harry?” Louis asks, his voice cautious.

Harry takes a solid minute before answering and Louis doesn’t press, he just waits patiently, his cheek resting against Harry’s chest. Louis can hear his heartbeat and feel the steady rise and fall of his breaths and both are calm, Harry’s body relaxing and no longer giving in to jagged tears.

“I feel… I feel okay, Louis. I’m actually starting to feel better about things.”

“Oh, love. I’m so glad,” Louis answers.

“In five years, Niall is married and he has a son: a newborn baby. My mum was absolutely nuts about him, she was holding him almost the entire video and Niall’s wife called her ‘Nanny Anne’ and it was really sweet. When I was watching the clip I felt so sad that I’d never meet his boy or get to be his uncle, but now, I just feel really happy for him and know that he’s going to be an amazing dad.”

“That’s so great, Haz.” Louis sits up then so they can look at each other as they speak. Harry ducks his head and smiles shyly.

“He called his son ‘Harry’, Lou. He named him after me.” Harry’s face splits into a wide grin then, and it’s the best thing Louis has ever seen and he can’t help the happy giggle that escapes his lips.

“That’s so wonderful, darling. They’re keeping you with them and you’re always going to be a part of their lives.”

“It’s good, yeah?” Harry wonders. Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s lips.

“Yeah, it’s good.”

They get up from the bench then and continue their walk back towards Louis’ hotel. They stop at an all-night bakery and order cups of tea and fresh-baked scones and sit next to each other in a corner booth and laugh and talk about their families and their life on Earth and _it is good_ , the initial trauma of the video screening having dissipated and the grief and anger of their losses replaced by comfort and love.

The love is all that remains.


	13. And You Smiled Because You Knew

Louis and Harry sit in the little bakery for over an hour and during that time their sorrow melts away and they are able to appreciate their _Five in Five_ video experiences as a gift that has provided them a sense of closure to their time on Earth.

Watching the video was difficult, Louis contending that it was the most heartbreakingly painful thing he’s ever endured. But now that the anguish and initial shock has passed Louis is immeasurably grateful for the chance to see how well his family is coping without him, and he’s especially appreciative that he was able to experience some of the ways they keep his memory alive even after he’s long gone. Harry smiles and shares that he feels the exact same way.

After Harry finishes telling Louis about his video, Louis tells Harry all about his own experience and the two compare notes on their own emotions at seeing how many changes their families will undergo in the coming years. But the conversation is not heavy or sad, or full of anger and regret; instead, they both feel happy for their loved ones and are comforted by the way their families will grow and thrive. It’s a peaceful feeling and it’s a relief.

When the talk of their videos finally plays out, the conversation turns to lighter topics and after returning from the counter to refill their cups of tea, Harry casually mentions to Louis that he worked in a bakery as a teenager.

“Did you, love?” Louis asks. “I imagine you looked quite fetching in an apron and chef’s hat.” As the words leave his mouth, Louis catches himself because he’s positively certain a teenaged Harry was gorgeous and he doesn’t need to have any more inappropriate thoughts about him than the ones that already dominate his brain.

“Fancy a boy in an apron, do you?” Harry asks, seeming to read Louis’ mind. Louis pinches Harry’s shoulder and grins, but doesn’t answer.

“So, did you make scones like these, then?” Louis asks and he holds up the rich chocolate chip pastry that sits on the little porcelain plate in front of him and points it at Harry. Harry breaks off the end of Louis’ scone and tosses it in his mouth, his eyes immediately falling shut as the buttery sweet concoction melts on his tongue.

“If I had baked scones like they serve here in the Afterlife, I would have been the richest man in England, Louis. The food here…” he shakes his head and takes a gulp of his tea, washing the dense pastry down. “It’s utterly indescribable.”

Louis smiles and raises his hands in praise. “Thank whoever is in charge that we can eat all we want. If we were on Earth and I’d eaten as much as I have since I arrived in this place I would have already gained two stone. It’s really incredible, the way they feed us so well.”

Harry ducks his head shyly before returning his gaze to Louis. “I was actually thinking about that… The food here, I mean.”

“Yeah?” Louis presses.

“Yeah… Well, what I was thinking was that after we finish our Reviews and we’ve moved forward to the next realm, I’d eventually like to come back to Judgment City and maybe become a chef or a baker for the people here. Everyone has been so wonderful to us and I’d like to contribute to all of it, if I can. I’ve always loved to cook,” he adds and smiles bashfully.

“Harry, that’s so thoughtful that you want to do that. But has Sam told you about what lies ahead in the next realm? Marcus told me it’s unlike anything a person could ever imagine. You might not want to come back here once you’ve seen what’s in store for you when you advance.”

“What’s in store for _us_ , when _we_ advance, Louis,” Harry corrects and Louis smiles at Harry’s effortless optimism. “I know that when we move forward we have to study,” he taps his temple with his index finger, “and grow our ‘little brains’ a bit. But I’ve thought about it a lot actually, and I want to give back. I’d like to return here when the time is right and do something productive and help the new Intakes in some small way. Besides, I quite like this place. It’s where I met you, after all.”

Louis can feel the warm flush on his cheeks and he really thought he was past the point where Harry’s sweet words would make him immediately blush. “I think the new Intakes of Judgment City – ‘ _UK Chapter’_ ,” he adds with a wink, “would be quite lucky to have you whipping up fine meals or baked goods for them, Harry. It’s so lovely that you’re already considering about what you want to do next.”

“Have you thought about it, Lou? Do you think you would want to come back here and work? Of course, I would only return if you wanted to come with me. We’re a package deal,” Harry says and leans over and kisses Louis soundly on the lips. Louis shakes his head, because the things Harry says have a way of undoing him, just the tiniest bit.

“I haven’t thought beyond tomorrow’s Review, to be honest. I just want to get through this process, then I’ll start thinking in the long term,” Louis replies with a shrug. “However, I can tell you this much, I want to go wherever you go, Harry Styles.”

Harry smiles and drains the last of the tea from his cup. “Well, right now, where I _want_ to go is back to the hotel so I can snog my gorgeous boyfriend for a while, if that’s all right with you?”

Louis happily agrees, and the two get up to leave, Harry thanking the workers behind the counter on their way out the door. When they’re back on the foot-pavement, Louis stops and turns to Harry. He’s feeling a bit nervous and rubs his hand across his forehead in contemplation before speaking.

“So… Um, I have that surprise for you that I mentioned earlier…”

Harry’s face immediately lights up and he squeezes Louis’ hip. Louis looks down at the ground and averts his eyes because he’s feeling a little unsure about what he has planned, especially given how emotionally draining their night has been.

“Surprise! Surprise! Surprise!” Harry merrily chants, his voice low as he claps his hands softly together. He sounds like a little kid who has just been told he has free reign over the local candy shop, but is trying to restrain himself, lest the opportunity be taken from him. Louis clears his throat and tugs at the collar of his tupa and Harry pulls him in close, sensing his discomfort. “Are you okay, Louis? You know, I don’t expect anything from you. If you’re not up for sharing whatever you have for me, it’s totally okay. I know you must be exhausted.”

“No, I’m not exhausted at all. I _do_ want to share my surprise with you… I’ve… Well, I’ve been thinking about it all day. But now… Now I’m not sure it’s really… _appropriate_.”

“Appropriate?” Harry repeats and he tilts his head, raising an eyebrow, obviously intrigued. A small smile plays across his lips and he moves in closer. “Why wouldn’t your surprise be appropriate, Louis? What _exactly_ have you got in store for me?”

“It’s just that this whole _Five in Five_ video experience was really intense and emotional – but I feel so much better now!” he emphasizes, holding up his hands. He reaches for Harry’s belt then and rubs his thumbs along the banding absentmindedly. “I think you feel better too, but if you’re still even a little sad, or thinking about your family and friends, then maybe I should save it for another time.” Louis’ voice trails off as he adds, “Not that we have that much time left here…”

“Louis,” Harry says, his voice sure. “I don’t feel sad anymore at all. In fact, I feel quite wonderful about everything that I saw tonight. I’m so happy my family is going to be okay and that they keep me a part of their lives. I’m so glad I went to the screening, regardless of the fact that it was initially so difficult. The pain is gone now. The love is all that I feel.”

Louis looks at Harry and studies his face closely. He knows Harry would never lie to him, but he’s also feeling more than a little embarrassed about what he has planned. It’s rather silly, actually and he’s not sure –

“What’s my surprise?” Harry asks, interrupting his thoughts.

Louis tilts his head to the side, his fingers still playing with Harry’s belt. Harry reaches down and takes Louis’ hands in his own to still them and Louis lets out a nervous laugh and then speaks. “Well, um… The thing is, Harry, the surprise I have for you is kind of… _weirdly sexual_.”

“Weirdly sexual?” Harry repeats, and he can barely control the smirk on his face; he’s obviously enjoying watching Louis squirm, the little shit.

“Well, I highly doubt that what I have for you would be construed as ‘weirdly sexual’ by most people. But you, love… Well, you’re just a bit of a pervert, aren’t you?” Louis teases. If Harry can play, well then, so can he.

Harry nods in agreement. “I am,” he happily admits. “And now you’ve got this pervert downright curious.” Harry tugs on Louis’ hand and begins walking quickly down the foot-pavement, dragging Louis behind him.

“Slow down! What are you doing, Hazza?” Louis asks, his voice bubbling with laughter.

Harry turns around then, but doesn’t slow his pace. He raises an eyebrow and grins. “I’m taking you back to the hotel, of course. I’m feeling very _weirdly sexual_ right now, Louis, and I want my surprise.”

Fifteen minutes later, they are back in Louis’ room at The Regency and Louis cannot believe what he’s about to do. He tells Harry he needs ten minutes to freshen up in the en suite and that Harry should occupy himself by watching some telly or reading a magazine. The maid must have come in and cleaned up their room again while they were at the video screening because the bed is freshly made and the covers neatly folded back at an angle beneath the outer pillow. Harry runs his hand over the duvet, his eyes never leaving Louis’ as he sits down on the end of the bed like he has all the time in the world. He pats the mattress and looks at Louis then licks his lips. “I don’t need to watch television. I’ll just wait right here for you, Lou.”

“Jesus, Haz,” Louis mutters, but he can’t help the anticipation he feels buzzing through his veins.

He walks over to the cupboard and slides the door open, removing the white paper bag from the top shelf that contains the gift Luciana gave him after his footie match. He sneaks his head around the corner of the hallway then and eyes Harry suspiciously. “No peeking,” he warns.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry answers casually. He scoots back a bit further on the bed.

“Erm… Maybe you should take off your tupa,” Louis advises. “You know, so you’re comfortable.”

“Alright,” Harry replies, his voice easy. Louis turns around then and heads into the en suite because if he stops to watch Harry undress he’ll be completely done for.

He quickly shuts the door to the en suite and turns on the shower. He just needs to step in and rinse off the dried tears and anxiety caused by his _Five in Five_ screening. He wants to fully let go of the evening’s stresses. He wants to get _clean_. But more than that, he wants to get clean so that Harry can make him _dirty_ all over again; he wants Harry to make him sweaty and sticky in the best way possible. He always _wants_ Harry, and as he steps under the pulsating stream, he makes a mental note that by this time tomorrow night, he’ll know what it’s like to have _all_ of him. _“Fuck; I’m finally going to know what it’s like to be inside of him,”_ he thinks to himself and then he tries to clear his thoughts because he doesn’t need to get hard before he’s even dressed up properly for his man.

Louis makes sure to keep his hair away from the spray as he quickly soaps his entire body under the hot water before rinsing off. He is in and out of the shower in under three minutes and that’s a personal best.

He stands in front of the mirror then and eyes his appearance. His quiff has fallen a bit flat due to the steam, so he applies a little more product and uses the hair dryer to quickly style it back into place. He dabs just a touch of cologne to his pulse points and then brushes his teeth, rinsing his mouth with minty mouthwash before finally opening the white bag and retrieving its contents.

“Bloody hell, I must love him,” he mumbles as he pulls the items from the bag.

Luciana included everything, save for the football cleats and shin guards when she packed his gift for him and he carefully spreads the items out on the countertop, his emotions dueling between arousal and embarrassment. There, laid out before him is a brand new Intake footie kit, the amount of material so minimal that it barely takes up any counter space at all.

“Fit for a fucking porn star,” Louis sighs, as he surveys the tiny green short pants, modified tupa, knee socks, and belt.

_Harry is going to owe me for this._

_Harry is going to fucking love me for this._

He quickly pats his body dry with a towel and then picks up a bottle of coconut-scented lotion from the counter and rubs some onto his arms, legs and abs, leaving his skin soft and shimmering. He turns around then and opens the door to the en suite.

“Are you doing okay out there, Harry? Wouldn’t want you falling asleep on me, love,” Louis calls out.

Harry’s voice is gravelly and it sounds like sex when he replies, “I wouldn’t dream of falling asleep on you, Louis… Unless of course, we were actually sleeping.” Louis bites his lip and smiles. “Now hurry up and bring me my surprise.”

“Two more minutes,” Louis answers, then quickly shuts the bathroom door.

He wonders if the knee socks are too much; maybe he should just wear the shorts and the tupa? But then he decides he’s in this far, he might as well go all the way. He pulls on the knee socks then and rolls his eyes as he picks the bright green shorts up off the counter. “Bloody booty shorts,” he groans, before stepping into them and pulling them up and over his meaty thighs until they are barely covering his round, thick arse, the waistband positioned low on his hips. They _are_ ridiculously comfortable though, so he really has no reason to complain. Besides, the way they look stretched over his bum… Well.

If he’s being honest with himself, Louis can admit that the footie kit _is_ sexy and he’s starting to feel more than a little turned on anticipating Harry’s reaction. Every time the kit has been so much as mentioned in Harry’s presence the look he has given Louis has been one of pure, carnal desire. Louis is ready to see that look again.

Hurriedly, Louis pulls the footie tupa over his head, adjusting it so that the fabric fits smoothly over his torso: hugging his curves and showing off his pecs while also highlighting the marked indentations of the muscles of his abdomen and the tiny swell of his tummy. The little skirt falls over the top of his arse and juts outwards. “ _Too much junk in my trunk_ ,” Louis thinks to himself as he pats his bum. He dons the belt and positions it so that it rests low on his hips, directly above the waistband of the barely there shorts that cling to his arse, accentuating his small waist.

“I cannot believe I’m bloody doing this,” he says, shaking his head and chuckling lowly. His voice comes out much louder than intended.

“Did you say something, Lou?” Harry calls from the bedroom.

Louis opens the door to the en suite. “No, love, but I’m almost ready. Close your eyes, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry answers, and Louis can practically hear the smirk in his voice. He looks in the mirror and runs his fingers through his hair, giving his quiff a final touch up. He slowly turns to survey his entire appearance. He looks good and he knows it, despite the fact that he feels more than a little ridiculous. He blows out a puff of air and shuts off the en suite light.

“Keep your eyes closed, Harry. Promise me no peeking!” he warns.

“I won’t! Just, get here, Louis,” Harry answers, and the way that his voice is tinged with both want and frustration causes Louis to feel tingly all over, nervous energy circulating through his body from his head to his toes.

Louis carefully walks the few steps from the hallway into the main room and sure enough, Harry is seated on the end of the bed wearing only his pants, his tupa thrown over the chair next to the sofa, his hands covering his closed eyes, waiting for Louis’ instructions. All the lights are turned off in the room, save for the bedside lamp, which is turned down to its lowest setting, casting Harry’s body in a warm glow. For a moment, Louis just stands and stares at him, because the way the light is dancing off his loose, glossy curls and reflecting on his creamy, tattooed skin is absolutely breathtaking. Louis swallows thickly.

“Keep your eyes covered,” he says, his voice ringing out in the quiet room.

“I am, I promise. Just hurry up.” Harry shifts uncomfortably on the bed and Louis can tell that he’s already starting to become aroused, his semi-hard dick thick in his pants.

Louis approaches and then stands before him. He’s not sure what he should do: should he just tell Harry to open his eyes?

No.

Louis at least needs to pull off a sexy pose. He’s wearing this ridiculous gladiator costume, after all; he might as well go full throttle. He turns his body slightly to the side and places one hand on his hip, popping his bum and bending his right knee, his ankle turned in coquettishly. He closes his eyes for a moment because he cannot believe he’s wearing this absurd footie kit to seduce a man who is already crazy about him, but actually, it’s sort of exciting; he never in a million years would have done this for anyone else he’s ever been in a relationship with and the thought makes him realize how lucky he is to call Harry his own. He draws in a deep breath and speaks, trying to make his voice sound breathy and sexy.

“You can open your eyes now, baby.”

Slowly, Harry drops his hands away from his face and raises his head. He opens his eyes and blinks a few times, adjusting to the soft light of the room and then his eyes go wide and his mouth falls open as he takes in the sight before him.

“Fucking hell,” Harry murmurs, his voice full of awe. “How did you –? Where did you –?” but he doesn’t finish his thoughts, he just absentmindedly runs his hand over his crotch and stares.

At first, Harry barely moves while his eyes slowly trace over Louis’ body, taking in every inch of him starting with his socked feet and working his way up Louis’ strong legs, pausing for a moment on his plump arse and then carefully tracing over Louis’ torso and chest until he’s reached Louis’ face. “Best fucking surprise I’ve ever had,” he rasps, and then he stands up, his movements careful, yet full of intent.

He walks a slow circle around Louis, eyeing him up and down, gawking at him like he’s the only thing that has ever mattered. Louis feels completely on display and utterly desired. His own breathing starts to pick up because the way Harry is looking at him is making him feel sexy and powerful and it’s a heady feeling.

“I think I’m dreaming,” Harry growls, his voice deep and resonating in the quiet of the room. He stands behind Louis and traces his finger down his spine and over his arse, gliding it between his clothed cheeks and causing Louis to let out the softest whimper. He slides his left arm around Louis’ waist and spreads his large hand over Louis’ chest, his warm fingertips pressing into the soft fabric of Louis’ tight tupa top, the pads of his fingers shooting tingling currents over Louis’ body and causing the hair on his arms and legs to stand on end. Harry noses up the back of Louis’ neck, pressing his mouth against his skin in feather-light kisses from the top of his shoulder to the base of his ear and Louis’ head falls to the side to allow Harry better access.

“I could live a thousand lifetimes and never meet someone like you, Louis.” Harry’s voice is sweet and low and the vibrations emitted against Louis’ neck when he speaks cause Louis to shiver. “I could live a thousand lifetimes and never have a surprise such as this. Do you have any idea how sexy you are in this kit? Do you know what you do to me?” Harry asks, squeezing his fingers over Louis’ chest. He licks at Louis’ earlobe and then gently bites the soft flesh before letting go. “Do you now how much I want you?”

Louis feels hot all over, his body awash in arousal. “S-so you like it?” he whispers, although he already knows the answer.

“Do I bloody like it?” Harry replies. “I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful. I’ve never wanted anyone so much… Ever, Louis! I’m quite certain that you standing before me in this footie kit is all the proof I need that Heaven is real. I know that this place is Heaven,” and he ever so gently nips at Louis’ jaw. “ _You’re_ my Heaven, Louis.”

“Harry,” Louis mutters, his breath heavy. This was supposed to be a surprise for Harry, but suddenly Louis thinks that he’s the one who will be given a reward. He’s never had anyone speak to him so reverently before, or had anyone make him feel so utterly wanted. The feeling is indescribable and it’s overwhelming and it’s the best thing Louis has ever known. He can’t believe he had trepidation at wearing the kit for Harry because now he just feels raw and carnal and he wants so much.

Harry wraps his right hand around Louis’ waist then, his left hand moving upwards and pinching and massaging Louis’ nipple over the fabric of his garment, causing Louis to keen. He glides his right hand over Louis’ tummy and then slides it downwards over Louis’ crotch, stroking his sheathed dick which is already growing hard and thick in his tight shorts. “I can’t believe you’re wearing this for me. I’ve been fantasizing about you in this kit since I first saw you out on that pitch. My god,” Harry breathes, “I’m going to devour you, Louis.”

Louis throws his head back against Harry’s shoulder and Harry pulls him in closer so that Louis’ back is pressed tight against Harry’s chest. Harry’s hands wrap around Louis’ waist and he undoes Louis’ belt, tossing it onto the floor. The fabric of his tupa hangs a bit looser, but it still stretches tight across his pecs, the capped sleeves showing off Louis’ biceps and the short skirt hugging his hips in all the right places.

“So bloody gorgeous,” Harry whispers and he licks a stripe up Louis’ neck, the sensation causing Louis’ knees to momentarily buckle. Harry’s fingers spread and once again he dips his hand over Louis’ crotch, sliding it up and down between Louis’ legs. Louis stands up on his tiptoes, chasing Harry’s movements, the friction so good and just what he wants and needs.

Harry lets go of Louis then and Louis feels like he’s going to fall down onto the carpet, his body already pliant and loose, but before he can move, Harry is standing in front of him, pulling him against his chest with one hand and using the other to hold up Louis’ chin so they are looking into each other’s eyes. Harry leans in then, his fingers cradling Louis’ cheek as he presses their mouths together slow and tender. Louis flicks out his tongue, wanting to make the kiss deeper and Harry invites him in, his breath hot on Louis’ lips. He kisses him one, twice, three, more times, each kiss harder and wetter than the one before.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you, Louis. What can I do to repay you? You’ve given me this gift and I want to show you my appreciation.” Harry pauses then and pulls back to look at Louis properly. His eyes rake over Louis’ body and Louis closes his own eyes because he’s pretty certain if ever there was a look from another man that could make Louis come without so much as the slightest bodily contact, it’s the look Harry is giving him right now. He feels Harry’s eyes burning into his skin. “I meant what I said, Louis,” Harry whispers and as he speaks he begins to slowly rock Louis from side to side, mouthing along Louis’ sharp collarbones.

Louis feels like putty, completely pliant in Harry’s hands. His head lolls backwards as Harry bites and sucks. “What… What do you mean? What did you say, Harry?” Louis asks, because he’s barely able to concentrate on what Harry is telling him, the soft brush of Harry’s lips contrasted with the gentle bite of his teeth rendering him wholly distracted.

“That I want to devour you,” Harry answers, and he slides his hand down Louis’ back then, gliding it upwards beneath the short skirt of his tupa and then dipping it into the waistband of Louis’ shorts. He moves slowly as he presses his middle finger into the cleft of Louis’ arse causing his hips to sway forward at the contact, a breathy whine escaping Louis’ lips as Harry glides his finger between his cheeks and just above his rim. “Can I, Louis? I just want to taste every part of you,” and he slides his finger lower, pressing it against the tight ring of muscle and causing Louis to moan.

Louis pulls back then, having properly registered Harry’s words. He swallows and his lips part and his eyes go wide. “Harry… Do you… Are you sure?” he croaks and Harry answers him by licking his lips and nodding his head. Louis drops his forehead onto Harry’s shoulder and rolls it back and forth. His whole being is on fire; he feels his cock pulsing in his shorts, his body yearning for Harry’s lips and Harry’s tongue, his mind overwhelmed because Harry wants to give them to him. He nods his head up and down then, but doesn’t raise it from Harry’s shoulder, too embarrassed by his own uncontrollable desire as he grinds his hips forward, his groin rutting against Harry’s as he murmurs, “I want you to… Harry… Please…” against his chest.

Harry again presses his finger against Louis’ rim and Louis forces himself to look up and meet Harry’s gaze. “You want me to have my way with you then, Louis?” Harry asks, and Louis nods his head before quietly replying, “I do. I… I want you to take me apart and I want you to mark me up. I want you all over me, Harry.”

Louis briefly looks down because he’s never so blatantly expressed his desire like this to another person; he’s never wanted anyone the way he wants Harry and he suddenly feels shy, but when he feels Harry’s fingers gently nudge his chin, he looks into Harry’s eyes again and he swears they are two shades darker; his pupils are fully dilated and he looks… He looks absolutely _hungry_. Louis stares back and he doesn’t waver as he continues speaking. “I want you to claim me, Harry. Make me dirty. Make me yours.”

Harry lips part and he runs his tongue over his teeth, groaning, “Fuck, yes, I’ll make you mine,” before taking Louis’ hand and walking him over to the bed. Louis just stands there as Harry pulls back the covers and places a pillow in the center of the mattress. Louis starts to fiddle with the hem of his tupa skirt, completely self-conscious. He feels jumpy and unsure as to what he should do next, so he starts to pull the tupa up his chest to undress. He feels Harry’s hands on his wrists then, stopping him.

“Leave it on, Louis. Please. You look so fucking gorgeous, just… Just don’t take it off yet, alright?”

Louis nods in agreement and then Harry sits on the outer edge of the bed and pulls Louis’ body between his legs. He presses kisses over the fabric of Louis’ garment, the sheer material and the moisture of Harry’s lips ghosting over his skin as Harry bites at his ribs, then works his way up his chest, Harry raising himself off the bed enough to reach Louis’ nipple. He presses his mouth against it and bites, the material of the tupa becoming wet as he sucks and tongues at Louis’ sensitive bud.

“Bloody hell, Harry,” Louis groans as he winds his fingers through Harry’s hair and pulls, yanking Harry’s head back. Harry looks up at him and for a moment they both just stare, completely caught in one another. Harry stands up fully then and guides Louis onto the bed, laying him out so that his tummy rests on the mattress, his hips and arse elevated by the pillow. He places another pillow beneath Louis’ head and Louis hugs it tight, turning to face the wall and closing his eyes as Harry traces his fingers down his back. Louis feels the mattress dip as Harry reaches over and he hears the nightstand drawer being opened and closed. Harry sets something down on the mattress beside his chest and then leans over and whispers in his ear, “It’s butterscotch flavored, Louis; it gets warm when you rub it and _hot_ when you blow. I’m going to make you feel so good. You’re going to _taste_ so good on my tongue.” Louis squeezes his eyes shut harder and grinds his hips against the pillow at Harry’s words, completely aroused and more than a little helpless.

“Relax, love,” Harry coos, tracing his fingers up and down Louis’ spine. Louis feels the bed dip again and realizes that Harry is straddling him, but he must be resting his weight on his knees because Louis feels no pressure on his own thighs or bum.

Harry leans over then, his hands bracketing Louis’ chest as he kisses Louis’ cheek before placing another kiss behind his ear, and still another at the corner of his lips.

“You’ve no idea how gorgeous you are, Louis. I can’t really believe that I get to have you for myself.”

Louis feels the soft pads of Harry’s fingertips then as they graze beneath the fabric of his tupa, bunching the material in his hands and pushing it upwards towards his armpits until Louis’ back is completely exposed. Harry draws in a breath then and begins pressing wet kisses down Louis’ spine. Louis can do nothing but take it all in: the quick, moist pressure of Harry’s lips shooting crackling sparks of pleasure that radiate throughout his body and render him desperate and wanting more.

He grinds his crotch against the pillow again, the movement entirely beyond his control. He feels Harry’s fingers dance on either side of his hips, ducking beneath the waistband of his shorts, but Harry doesn’t pull them down yet, rather he licks over the fabric that is stretched tight over Louis’ bum cheeks, biting his meaty flesh and causing Louis to moan beneath him. Harry presses his fingers into the sides of Louis’ arse, his thumbs drawing circles over his soft, clothed skin. Louis is already so hard he can barely stand it and he gasps and pushes his bum upwards, panting out Harry’s name.

“Do you need more, Louis?” Harry asks, his voice calm.

Louis groans and rolls his hips and it’s sweet relief when he feels the fabric of his shorts being pulled away from his body, Harry sliding them over his arse and dragging them down to just below his knees. He does not pull them off completely though, he simply places his warm hands on Louis’ thighs and spreads his legs outwards, forcing Louis to work against the constricting material of the shorts to do as Harry wants: to open his legs and expose himself to him.

It somehow feels sexier this way: his clothing still on his body, but manipulated so that his top is pushed up to reveal his torso and back, and his shorts used to restrain his legs. Louis’ socks are still pulled up to his knees and it’s like even though he’s bound by fabric, he’s laid completely bare, his twisted garments actually calling attention to just how exposed he really is. He feels nervous and anxious, but most of all, he just _wants_. He wants Harry to touch him and kiss him and fuck him with his tongue. He just wants everything and best of all, he knows that Harry is going to give it to him.

He feels Harry settle between his thighs then and for a moment, the room is completely quiet; Harry nestles his forehead on Louis’ lower back, pressing his chin in the shallow dip at the base of Louis’ spine before lowering his head and kissing along the cleft of his arse.

But then, Harry speaks.

“I’m going to take you apart now, Louis,” Harry says, and his voice is so deep that it rings throughout Louis’ body like the mad chiming of a bell. “Gonna lick you open and have my way with you, if that’s all right?”

All Louis can do is grunt out an anguished “Please,” and once again roll his hips against the pillow, desperate and aching for more.

And then he feels it.

Harry’s thumbs glide side by side down the center of Louis’ cheeks and then slowly spread him apart, the unexpected rush of cool air against Louis’ exposed rim causing him to suck in a deep breath. He is completely on display and rendered entirely vulnerable and at Harry’s mercy, yet Louis has never felt sexier, never felt more wanted than he does right now. His shorts tether his legs, but he somehow manages to pull his knees upwards, lifting his arse higher and affording Harry greater purchase, the material of his shorts stretching tightly around his calves.

Harry groans at the sight before him. “I can’t believe I get to have you… All of you, Louis,” is all he manages to croak out before he moves in.

The first flicker of Harry’s tongue against his rim is maddening and causes Louis’ arms to shoot out from his body. Harry’s tongue is soft and wet and insistent, and Louis grabs on to the base of the headboard and presses his forehead into his pillow as he feels the repeated strokes brush over the tight ring of muscles that comprise his hole.

Harry’s licks are slow and deliberate and utterly merciless: each wet caress of his tongue has Louis moaning and grinding downwards until Harry places his hands firmly on either side of his hips and commands him to be still.

“I’m going to make you come untouched, Louis,” Harry grunts, his voice thick, yet in control. “I need you to relax and I don’t want you to touch yourself. Just let me have my way with you; be good for me, okay?”

He presses a wet kiss against Louis’ clenching rim and all Louis can do is cry out and moan, “I’ll be good,” in response before Harry dives back in.

Louis feels utterly worshipped having Harry undo him like this and even though he promises to keep still, he can’t help but squirm as each flicker of Harry’s tongue licks over his body. Just knowing that Harry is seeing a part of him that’s so private and has only rarely been given more than cursory attention by anyone Louis has ever been with – and certainly never with the reverence Harry is showing him now – makes him feel powerful and loved and so deliciously dirty he thinks he might overdose on the feeling.

Harry licks a broad, soft stroke over Louis’ rim, dragging his tongue downwards and gliding over Louis’ taint to the base of his balls. It feels like nothing Louis has ever experienced before and is only bested by the way that Harry flattens his wet tongue and then drags it back upwards, dancing around Louis’ tight, pink circle and causing Louis’ body to jerk and tense beneath him. Harry repeats the motion again and again, slick drops of saliva dripping between Louis’ spread cheeks, pooling on his balls, and spilling onto the pillow below.

Harry takes his tongue away then and Louis is certain he just might pass out, his body desperate for _more, more, more_. He feels Harry’s mouth on one of his cheeks and then Louis’ entire upper body jolts as Harry bites down into his tender flesh and begins to suck a bruising kiss into Louis’ arse. As he works, Harry gently kneads Louis’ other cheek with his free hand, once again suspending Louis’ entire being with dueling sensations: this time the stinging bite of Harry’s mouth and the soft touch of his fingertips working in tandem and causing Louis to moan helplessly, his hips circling without his consent.

He hears a cracking sound as the bottle of lubricant is opened and then lets out a low moan as he feels cool, jelly-like liquid being spread over his hole, the smell of butterscotch filling the air. Harry drags his fingers through the lubricant, lazily spreading it over Louis’ hungry flesh, but before Louis can get too used to the gentle touch of Harry’s fingertips, Harry tongues slowly over the liquid, licking up a dollop before pushing his body upwards so that he hovers over Louis. He smells sweet, like candy, and he leans in then and kisses Louis on the mouth.

Perhaps in another time, with any other person, Louis would shy away at the thought of tasting a tongue that has explored his own body so intimately, but with Harry, Louis doesn’t feel like withdrawing at all. Instead, he twists his head so he can kiss him properly, their tongues tangling together in a passionate and deep kiss. Louis’ mouth fills with the sugary flavor of the lube: it tastes buttery and warm, like rich and salty toffee and Louis is not at all surprised by how delicious it is; everything in Judgment City tastes amazing, why should this butterscotch kiss be any different?

“You’re _my_ Heaven, Louis,” Harry whispers as he pulls his lips away and crawls back down his body. When he’s positioned back between Louis’ bound and spread thighs, he reaches his hand upwards and slides it beneath Louis’ chest, his slick fingers searching and grabbing onto Louis’ right nipple and then pinching and rolling the tender nub between his fingertips, Louis whining lowly in response. Louis pushes his face into his pillow and rocks his shoulders back and forth against the mattress as Harry continues his ministrations, his fingers expertly tweaking the sensitive mound of flesh and bridging the perfect balance between pleasure and pain.

Louis groans at the shivers of electricity that Harry’s touch sends through him, but he doesn’t have time to go too far under, because Harry’s dry hand shoots up his body and he begins working over his left nipple, the disparate sensation of one nipple being pinched and squeezed with dry fingers while the other is teased and groped with fingers that are slippery and wet rendering Louis wholly unraveled, and when Harry takes it to the next level by flicking out his tongue and tracing it over Louis’ rim, Louis clenches tightly, trying to control the orgasm that he’s edging ever closer towards.

Harry pulls his fingers away then and Louis hears the bottle cap once again being flipped open and again, he feels cool gel oozing between his crack. Harry sits up, balancing his weight on his knees and hovering over Louis as he drags his fingers over the liquid and begins to slowly rub, gliding his fingers from Louis’ rim to his balls and back up again, with each stroke pressing against his taint and causing Louis to moan at the pressure against his prostrate and the constant pulsing of his painfully hard and untouched cock.

As Harry’s fingers move, the lubricant becomes warmer, the sensation so pleasing that Louis doesn’t even realize that he’s grinding his hips up and down, humping the pillow beneath him until Harry leans in and blows and all of a sudden he feels a flash of heat so intense that he collapses flat, the burn so raw he lets out a loud, choked sob.

“Do you like that, Louis?” Harry asks and his voice is raspy and thick.

Louis is only able to make a squeaking noise in response and then he feels the sweet pressure of Harry’s tongue once again gliding over his hole and it’s all so maddeningly pleasurable that Louis doesn’t know how long he’s going to last. But then, Harry points his tongue and presses it inside, breeching Louis’ rim and Louis’ back arches off the mattress and he cries out in response. His hands clutch the sheet below him and he’s holding on so tight he rips it free on both sides of the bed because nobody has ever done this for him before and he doesn’t think he can take it. He’s completely undone.

Harry pulls out and slowly licks over Louis’ sensitive ring again and again and Louis feels like his skin has turned to liquid and he’s sure he’s going to evaporate: disintegrate into particles and drift away. Harry must sense that Louis is close, because he pulls back and presses kisses to Louis’ hips, giving him enough time to come down. He scoots down Louis’ body and grabs hold of the shorts that are still stretched around his calves and pulls them off his legs, tossing them to the foot of the mattress. Louis follows Harry’s cue and pulls off his tupa top, throwing it onto the floor at the side of the bed. Louis lets out a breath and feels his legs relax, no longer restrained by the tight elastic fabric, his body thrumming with the anticipation of what Harry is going to do next.

Harry runs his hands up and down the back of Louis’ thighs, massaging his strong muscles, Louis’ legs mildly sore from being spread and bound by his shorts. When he’s finished massaging them, Harry lightly grazes his fingernails in teasing circles over Louis’ skin, causing goosebumps to break out on his sensitive flesh. “You know, you still have your knee socks on, Louis. I quite like the way you look: your back arched and your arse so pretty and on display.” He runs his hands over Louis’ clothed calves and lets out a happy sigh. “And I still get to enjoy just a little bit of your kit.”

Louis cannot speak; overwhelmed by all of the attention Harry is giving him because nobody has ever showed such adulation for him before and it’s just so perfect and so much.

Harry slowly crawls back up Louis’ body and once again fits himself between Louis’ spread legs before gliding his slicked fingers back over Louis’ hole. Louis feels gentle pressure as Harry pushes his index finger down against his rim and Louis lifts his arse in the air then, because he absolutely _needs_ more. Harry, ever tuned in to Louis, gives it to him.

He slowly glides his index finger over his rim then and Louis closes his eyes and groans loudly as Harry presses the tip of his finger inside of his body, his rim clenching around his knuckle as Harry slowly pushes it in further.

“Is this okay, love?” Harry asks, his voice soft, and Louis nods his head rapidly, pushing his bum backwards and moaning out “Yes… M-more…” in response.

“You’re a fucking miracle, Louis,” Harry answers, his voice full of lust and wonder. He leans in then and licks around the puckered ring of muscles as he begins to glide his finger in and out and then he blows, activating the lubricant and causing another flash of heat to course through Louis’ body, making his hips jerk.

Harry leans down and licks again and when he pulls away he sings, “ _Your body is on fire, admit it. Come inside my sugar walls._ ”

Louis shakes his head at first because he’s not sure if he heard Harry correctly, but then Harry sings, “ _Come spend the night inside my sugar walls_ ,” and Louis lets out a low giggle, in spite of himself. He’s on fire with desire: his body burning at the way Harry is taking him apart, and yet, he still finds himself smiling.

“You are not seriously singing an ancient song about vaginas to my arse, are you, Harold?” Louis chuckles, his breathing heavy. Honestly, only Harry could make Louis laugh while simultaneously eating him out and fingering him open. It’s utterly absurd and completely perfect.

“I always thought that song _was_ about arses, Louis,” Harry replies, his voice casual as he once again blows over Louis’ rim, another spark of heat shooting through Louis’ body. Louis moans and buries his face in his pillow. “Your arse is so bloody perfect, Lou. It deserves to be sung all the praises in the universe.” He glides his finger out then and adds a second, Louis’ rim stretching to accommodate him, the feeling overwhelming and everything Louis can handle in this moment. “You’re so tight, so fucking soft, Lou,” Harry mumbles, then he leans in and licks the dimples at the base of Louis’ spine and Louis thinks he might cry because he’s never been treated like this; he’s never had it so good.

Louis wants everything with Harry. Most of all, right now, he wants Harry to fuck him, which is rather unusual because Louis really prefers to top. But still, the thought of Harry’s huge, thick cock driving in to him and splitting him open while Harry sings some ridiculous, forty-year old pop song to his arse, or utters some other impossible goofy phrase while his dimples pop on his cheeks and he gives it to him so good, has Louis squirming and panting and _needing_ so much. But he doesn’t ask Harry to fuck him, because that’s something special they’re saving for tomorrow night, and Louis wants that experience to be pure and wonderful for Harry. Tonight is something different; it’s about going places Louis has always been afraid to visit and it’s also about satisfying carnal desires and giving in. By the way that Harry is fingering him and licking at his hole, Louis is certain that he doesn’t need anything more.

“Sit up for me, Louis,” Harry commands and although he’s not sure he can even move, Louis forces his body to do as he’s told, placing both hands on the mattress on either side of his chest and pushing himself upwards so that he’s resting his weight on his spread knees and shins, Harry’s fingers never leaving him.

And it’s good. _It’s so fucking good_ : the change in positions causing Harry’s long fingers to slide in even deeper. Harry’s chest is pressed against Louis’ back and he’s so close that Louis feels completely enveloped by him. He wraps his free arm around Louis’ chest and pinches Louis’ nipple hard, making Louis groan, but he doesn’t touch his cock, instead whispering in his ear, “You’re going to come so hard, Louis, and neither one of us is even going to lay a hand on your dick.” Louis moans and throws his head back against Harry’s shoulder and he stretches his arms up and back, wrapping them behind Harry’s neck as Harry sucks kisses on the soft flesh below Louis’ ear, all the while driving his fingers in and out of Louis’ body at a brutal pace.

Louis starts grinding down against them then and when Harry adds a third finger Louis lets go of Harry’s neck and starts to fall forward, the stretch and the glide simply too overwhelming to properly support himself upright. But Harry is strong and he pulls him back, arching his own back so that Louis can recline against him as Harry curls his fingers and rubs Louis’ prostate.

It’s all too much.

Louis’ cock is so hard he feels like it might burst open; his head is rubbing against his abdomen and leaking a slow, sticky beaded trail of precome down the soft hair that runs below his navel, and the thick pressure thrumming through his shaft is practically driving Louis mad. He feels a tight coil in his groin that’s vibrating and pushing to be sprung free, his body aching for release. His legs are shaking and he can barely keep himself upright. The way Harry’s fingers are massaging over his spot and stretching his body is making Louis feel lightheaded and weak, but he continues chasing the feeling, grinding his hips up and down as Harry works him over.

“Just look at you,” Harry teases. He bites at Louis’ tender flesh and then nuzzles his cheek against Louis’, the stubble along his jaw deliciously rough on Louis’ skin. “This afternoon you told me how desperate you were going to make me, how I was going to be fucking myself on your fingers and here we are now and _you’re_ fucking yourself on _mine_. My, oh my, how the tables have turned. What do you think about that, Louis? Hmmm?” he taunts, his voice low and rough.

Louis whines and lowers himself over Harry’s fingers faster and harder; he’s so close to the edge he can taste it. “It’s… It’s fucking perfect,” he answers, pleasure radiating from inside, the heat bubbling in his groin and ready to boil over.

“I want you to come for me now,” Harry quietly demands and crooks his fingers sudden and sure against Louis’ prostate, pleasure exploding through Louis’ entire body. He lets out a loud cry and does as he’s told: come shooting so hard from his neglected cock that hot stripes extend up his torso and splatter on the hand Harry is using to hold him upright, strands of white stretching all the way to the deep wells that form above Louis’ curved collar bones. Harry keeps working his fingers until Louis is entirely spent and when he carefully pulls them out Louis drops to all fours, his shaking hands holding his quivering body over the mattress, willing himself to not entirely collapse.

“Come on me,” Louis croaks and Harry groans and answers, “Bloody hell! How did I ever find you?”

Louis looks over his shoulder then and Harry yanks down his pants just enough to free his cock, which is hard and thick, the head practically purple and leaking over his waistband. He wraps his lube-covered fingers around his shaft and throws his head back, letting out a lowly grunt at the feeling as he begins to pull himself off. His movements are fast and sloppy, he’s clearly already close to the edge from working Louis over so well and Louis closes his eyes and waits for it before dropping to his elbows and pushing his arse back toward Harry’s hips, whining, “Please… Fucking paint me, Harry. I want you all over me.”

“Fucking hell,” Harry utters, his voice nearly broken. Louis drops his head against the mattress as Harry’s free hand tightly grips Louis’ hip, the room echoing with the sound of heavy breaths and the slick movement of Harry’s hand up and down his cock.

This is by far the most erotic experience Louis has ever had: the way Harry has worked him up and taken him apart without so much as touching Louis’ cock or even his own, the way Harry tongued him and fingered him and made him come, the way Harry is going to come all over him. He doesn’t think it can get any better; he’s already come so hard he’s barely able to move and yet he still feels so completely aroused, the little whimpering sounds Harry is making as he pulls himself off like music to his ears.

And then it gets better.

“Louis!” Harry shouts and then Louis feels warm liquid splatter over his arse, painting his cheeks and dripping between his crack as Harry moans and pants behind him, overwhelmed by his own release.

Louis feels claimed and marked up and absolutely perfect. He is wet and sloppy, his chest and arse messy with come, the area from the cleft of his bum to the base of his balls coated in a sticky sweet trail of saliva and lube, and his entire body covered in a sheen of sweat. Nobody has brought this out in him before: this desire to have every inch of his skin slick and wet and sullied by sex. He’s quite certain that his entire sexual history could be described as “vanilla” compared to this. In fact, Louis really only experienced a rim job two or three times on Earth and while they were nice, he _never_ felt completely worshiped and undone the way Harry made him feel tonight. Louis falls forward and crumples against the sheets, Harry collapsing on top of him.

“We’re utterly filthy, Harry,” he pants, his breathing still heavy from his orgasm.

Harry squeezes his hips. “We’re fucking perfect, Lou,” he replies and he noses along Louis’ sweaty hairline, breathing him in. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over the way you make me feel… the things you make me want to do to you.”

“That was so amazing. I… I can’t believe we… You… Well, I just can’t believe how good you are to me, Harry.” He can feel Harry smile against his neck.

Harry presses soft kisses along Louis’ shoulder and his breathing is still labored when he speaks. “Tonight was absolutely everything, Louis… What you did for me…” He gently bites Louis’ bicep. “You know, it’s wonderful to be tender and sweet and I love that with you, but sometimes it’s so fucking good just to be raunchy and… How did you say it? ‘Mark me up. Make me dirty.’ Sometimes getting sloppy is pretty spectacular,” and he huffs a breathy laugh against Louis’ neck.

“It is,” Louis agrees and he feels so liberated because he never allowed himself to be free with Eleanor, _or_ the artist, _or_ any other partner, for that matter, and Harry gives him everything he’s ever needed; he makes him feel safe while also encouraging him to cut loose. Harry does not pass judgment over Louis; he simply loves him.

“For a few minutes there, I wanted you to fuck me so badly, I couldn’t see straight. But what you gave me, Harry… I swear; it was even better.”

Harry slides off Louis’ body then and snuggles up beside him, wrapping his arm over Louis’ back and slotting their legs together. He faces Louis directly so he can look in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Louis? My god, I would have fucked you senseless in a heartbeat. Your arse…” Harry groans, “It’s so fucking perfect.”

Louis bites back a grin. “Because I want our first time to be… I don’t want it to be wild and dirty… I want it to be slow and gentle and special and I want it to be about _you_ , Harry.” He searches Harry’s face. Harry is staring at him with big puppy dog eyes and a dopey grin like what Louis is saying to him is the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. “You told me that tomorrow night you want me to make love to you,” and Louis really can’t believe how easy the term ‘making love’ slipped off his tongue; he used to consider it ridiculous, but it will never be ridiculous in the context of Harry. With Harry, ‘making love’ is the most apt description in the world. “I want that too.”

“Looouuuis,” Harry whispers, dragging out Louis’ name like it’s the most sacred thing he’s ever said and he wants to make it last. His lips curve up in a soft smile and he nods his head. “Tomorrow night, then.”

Louis leans in and places his fingers on Harry’s cheek, pulling him in for a sweet and gentle kiss that Louis feels from the tips of his toes to the ends of every hair on his body. Harry makes him feel more loved and more alive than Louis ever felt on Earth. He can’t believe how lucky he is.

“Thank you, Louis,” Harry says when they finally pull apart.

“For what, love?” Louis asks because after the orgasm Harry gave him tonight, he’s pretty sure that he’s the one who should be thanking Harry.

“You knew how much I loved seeing you in your kit. I know that you think that your uniform is ridiculous and you’re embarrassed by it, but you wore it just for me anyway. It made me feel so special that you did that for me. You gave me the best surprise I’ve ever gotten in my entire life.”

Louis feels a wave of pride rush over him at having pleased Harry in such a way, but he can’t stop himself from retorting, “Or death.” Harry pinches Louis’ hip and laughs.

“You’re never going to tire of that joke, are you, Louis?”

“Not as long as I’m dead, I’m not.”

The two lie there as their breathing evens out, Harry pressing kisses to Louis’ cheeks and hairline and Louis humming happily at the attention. Eventually, the come that covers his body starts to dry and the deliciously dirty feeling Louis enjoyed just a short while earlier starts to shift towards discomfort and he lets out a breath and forces himself to speak.

“We really need a shower, Haz.”

Harry breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank god. I was hoping you would say that. I’m starting to feel really sticky, but I didn’t want to move unless you wanted us to.”

Louis smiles. “I love you, Harry.”

Harry pushes his body up and runs his hand over Louis bum, caressing his cheek, Louis feeling a dull throb of pain at his touch. “I love you, too, Louis.” His voice goes playfully serious as he adds, “But I think you should know that in addition to being covered in my Grade-A semen, your arse is also marked with a beautiful purple love bite that matches my mouth. You’re welcome.”

“I knew I felt a bruise! Fucking hell, you bit my arse, you dirty vampire.” Harry goes to squeeze the spot again and Louis rolls over and grins, deftly avoiding his touch. “And what’s Grade-A semen, Styles?” Louis scoffs with a laugh. “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

“Oh there is,” Harry replies, nodding his head as he climbs off the bed, pulling Louis along with him. “Reserved only for the finest, Grade-A bums,” and he pats Louis’ arse on the last word.

Louis shakes his head and rolls his eyes, muttering “Dirty boy,” as the two head to the en suite.

They enjoy a long, hot shower together, taking their time to thoroughly wash each other clean, bubbles of soap pooling at their feet as they rinse off under the pulsating spray. When they step out, Harry repeats his ritual from the previous night and drops to his knees and dries off Louis’ body: starting with his feet and working his way up his legs, torso, shoulders and hair before running the towel over himself. Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how good Harry takes care of him, how loved and whole he makes him feel. They brush their teeth and gargle with mouthwash and head naked back into the main room, both stopping in their tracks when they reach the bed.

“Bloody hell, I think we killed it,” Louis mutters and Harry’s eyes go wide beside him.

The bed is absolutely destroyed: the bottom sheet pulled completely off the mattress at the head of the bed and the top sheet tangled in a rumbled heap at the foot. The duvet is wedged between the side of the mattress and the wall, not to mention that there are sticky drops of lubricant on the crumpled sheets and on the case of the pillow that Harry used to elevate Louis’ hips while he ate him out. Louis is also sure that although they can’t really see it in the dim light of the room, there is no doubt a significant amount of come smeared over everything.

“I think I saw extra sheets in your cupboard, Lou,” Harry says and leaves Louis’ side to go check, and Louis hopes he’s correct because he’d really hate to call the front desk for fresh sheets this late in the evening; doing so would be more than a little embarrassing. Luckily, Harry returns with a pile of neatly folded and freshly laundered linens and the two quickly strip the bed and remake it, Louis teasing Harry that if he didn’t play so dirty they wouldn’t be doing this.

“You’re the one who wanted me to come on your arse, Louis. I think you’re just as responsible for this mess as I am,” Harry points out, smiling proudly as he tosses a pillowcase splattered in lube to Louis, who catches it haphazardly and throws it onto the pile of soiled linens, his face breaking into a happy grin.

“That was really hot though, Harry. Like, ridiculously hot.”

Harry bites his lip and nods his head. “Agreed,” he answers as the two apply the clean top sheet and then fluff up the duvet, the bed now fresh and inviting. Louis takes the pile of soiled linens to the en suite, shoving them into the hamper before returning to the bedroom to find Harry already tucked beneath the covers. He lies flat on his back, his arms stretched over his head and his hands folded beneath his neck where his head rests on his pillow.

“Well, don’t you look comfy, Harold,” Louis says and Harry smiles back sleepily at him.

“I am. Now get in here so I can cuddle with you. I want to go to sleep straight away so that I can dream about how perfect your arse tasted tonight.” Louis feels a flush spread over his cheeks.

“Dirty, dirty boy,” he whispers as he crawls beneath the covers, shutting off the light before tucking his body against Harry’s.

 

*****

           

_Louis is running._

_He is surrounded by a thick fog and he’s moving as fast as he can and yet he’s certain he won’t make it on time: he won’t reach the station and if he doesn’t get to the train before it departs, all will be lost._

_And then he’s there._

_He’s standing on the platform and he’s waving and shouting as he watches the train he needs to be on pull away, a cacophony of sound enveloping him as the whistle blows and steel wheels glide over metal tracks._

_He starts running along the platform then, trying to keep up with the train as it moves, but there are obstacles everywhere and his movements are slowed._

_The train reaches the end of the platform to the open tracks and Louis has no other choice but to jump into the gap, falling on his knees as he lands and then forcing himself upright._

_Through the fog, he sees him: Harry standing in the window of the caboose car, tears streaming down his face as he pounds his fists against the glass, silently shouting Louis’ name._

_Louis runs as fast as he can, but the fog is so dense. He skips across heavy railroad ties, tripping over gravel and trying to keep up as he frantically chases after the barreling locomotive that is moving faster and farther away, shrinking as it goes._

_It’s of no use._

_The train gets smaller still and the image of Harry begins to fade away until he is gone completely, the train disappearing in the distance._

_Louis sobs loudly, desperate to go with Harry. He is trying so very hard to hang on: willing himself to stay awake. And still, he cannot help himself: he starts to give in. His exhaustion is so heavy that it’s pulling him under and he can no longer stand. He’s just so fucking tired. He collapses on the tracks and drops his head._

_All is lost._

“Harry!” Louis shouts, and he jolts upright in bed, his heart pounding in his chest. He’s completely disoriented, his body wet with sweat, his breathing heavy. He feels two, strong arms wrap around him and he’s cradled against a broad chest, but he shakes uncontrollably.

“Louis… It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re having a bad dream. It’s okay, Lou.”

Soft kisses are pressed to his hair; a warm hand cups his cheek and another moves in soothing circles across his back.

“Harry,” Louis croaks, his body shivering, his breathing labored as he gasps for air.

“I’m right here, love. I’m right here.”

Louis feels tears prickle in the corner of his eyes and they start to spill over his cheeks. As he blinks them away, he registers that the clock on the nightstand reads 3:45 AM, but he’s so confused he has no idea what those numbers mean.

“Harry,” he says again, his voice cracking.

“I’ve got you, Louis. I promise, you’re okay.” Comforting and loving words are whispered in Louis’ ear.

Louis chokes out a stuttering sob and Harry pulls him so tight against his body that there isn’t a gap of space between them.

“They’re sending me back,” Louis cries, his mind flittering in the vast, cool and prickly space between conscious and unconscious thought.

“No, Louis. You’re having a nightmare. Wake up, Lou. We’re moving forward together; I promise you. I promise you, Louis. I believe in you. I love you, Louis. I love you. You’re not getting sent back. We’re moving forward together,” Harry whispers, repeating the sentiments as he kisses Louis again and again and again.

Louis curls his body into a tight ball and Harry wraps his own body around him, encompassing him completely.

Louis closes his eyes and murmurs, “But it’s not up to you, Harry,” as he is pulled back under into a deep sleep.

This time, he does not dream.

 

*****

 

Louis blinks open his eyes and all he can see is a graceful swallow tattoo, inked below the collarbone of the man he loves. He originally thought the bird might be a sparrow or love bird, but then Harry corrected him, telling him all about the day he had the pair of birds tattooed on his chest, what they mean to him, and how he’s sure that even though he didn’t know Louis when he was alive, that those birds were meant to represent both of them.

Harry is holding Louis so tightly that Louis can barely move, but he feels utterly safe and content. The room is bathed in brilliant hues of purple, orange and red, and the colors tell Louis that the sun is rising, but that he still has more time to lie in bed, cradled in Harry’s arms.

He shifts about then, attempting to stretch his legs just the tiniest bit to relieve a cramp in his right calve, his movements small so as not to disturb Harry. But then Louis feels soft kisses on the top of his head and Harry stretching his own body alongside his and he knows that he’s awake.

“Are you okay, Louis?” Harry asks, his voice thick with sleep, but a hint of concern evident in his tone.

Louis clears his throat and presses a kiss against the swallow tattoo that is closest to him. A smile breaks out on his lips because he’s so comfortable pressed up against Harry and wrapped in his arms that he cannot believe his own good fortune. “Of course I’m okay, darling. Did you sleep well, love?”

“I… I slept fine, Lou… But. Um. You don’t remember?” Harry asks, his voice uncertain.

“Don’t remember what?” Louis replies, utterly confused.

“Oh… Nothing,” Harry answers. “We’ve got some more time before we need to get up, maybe we should try to get a little more sleep?”

“Harry,” Louis says, and he raises his head so that he can face Harry straight on. “What am I missing? What don’t I remember?”

Harry worries his brow and squeezes Louis tight before answering. “It was nothing, I promise you. You just… Um. You had a bad dream last night. It wasn’t a big deal. I’m just glad you don’t remember, because nightmares can really disturb a good night’s rest.”

Louis closes his eyes and it all comes flooding back to him: the utter feeling of hopelessness; his tired body running across train tracks and trying to keep up with a locomotive that is moving at a far greater speed than Louis will ever be able to best; Harry disappearing into the foggy distance, lost to him forever.

“Oh my god,” he gasps. “I remember now! It was bloody awful.”

“It was just a bad dream, Louis. I’m so sorry I brought it up. I love you so much, and it just scared me a little, because the dream seemed to be so real to you.”

“It felt real,” Louis answers, his voice small.

“But it wasn’t. It was just a nightmare and you’re safe, Louis. You’re safe and we’re together.”

“Okay, love,” Louis replies, and he tries to push the horrible nightmare out of his head. “Let’s sleep just a little longer, yeah?” Louis asks, but he’s really not tired, he’s just so scared and he doesn’t want Harry to release him from his fiercely protective hold.

“We can sleep as long as you like,” Harry answers and he peppers kisses along Louis’ hairline, making Louis feel both loved and safe.

Louis closes his eyes, but he doesn’t sleep, he just stays still and breathes in Harry’s scent and tries to let go of the anxiety that is once again rolling in like the morning tide: a quiet, yet constantly reoccurring presence.

After fifteen minutes or so, Harry speaks.

“I’ll hold you like this forever, Louis. You don’t have to be asleep or pretend to be asleep for me to want to keep you safe.” Louis smiles and nuzzles his cheek against Harry’s collarbone.

“I know, love. I just want this moment to last. I want to freeze _right now_ for as long as I possibly can.” Louis drops his voice to barely above a whisper. “I’m… I’m so afraid that all of this is fleeting.” He feels Harry’s body tense and he immediately regrets sharing his last thought, because he knows he has upset Harry and he never wants to do that.

_What a way to start the day._

Harry lets out a deep breath and his body relaxes; yet he still somehow manages to hold Louis tighter.

“It’s not fleeting, Louis. I don’t know how I know it, but I positively believe that we’re moving forward together. I have enough faith for both of us, okay?”

“Okay, Harry.”

Louis feels Harry’s hand on his chin and he looks up to meet Harry’s eyes.

“I know you’re worried, but just… Please just try to believe it too, okay? I don’t know why you had such a terrible nightmare, but I promise you, tomorrow night we’ll be traveling on to the next realm, and we’ll be traveling together. I’m not going back to Earth and neither are you.”

Louis nods his head in agreement. The nightmare was unsettling, but maybe it was just his mind’s way of warning him to be positive. Marcus keeps telling him he needs to believe in himself and Harry says the same. Louis needs to listen to them.

“We’re moving forward together,” Louis whispers, and the resulting grin on Harry’s face is enough to almost couch his anxiety. For now, anyway.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Harry says and he pulls Louis in for a kiss. It starts off soft, just the gentle press of their lips together, but then Louis rolls on top of him, Harry’s hands immediately running down Louis’ back and landing on his bum. He squeezes Louis’ cheeks and Louis draws in a hissed breath, his arse still tender from the bruise Harry sucked into it the night before. “Sorry!” Harry says, grimacing. Louis just laughs.

“It’s okay, darling. The marks you leave on my body cause the _best_ kind of pain.”

“Well then, who’s the ‘dirty boy’ now?” Harry asks, and he rolls Louis onto his back and begins kissing down his neck and chest and then nuzzling his nose along the thin trail of hair that stretches below Louis’ belly. Harry wraps his hand around Louis’ soft cock and he begins to gently lick along the shaft, pulling back Louis’ foreskin to tongue at his head.

Louis reaches upwards and grips the bottom of the headboard, his cock almost immediately growing fat and hard in Harry’s mouth. Harry takes his time with Louis, sucking him off lazily, the slow glide of his lips and gentle suckle of his tongue and cheeks causing Louis’ to moan and shiver until finally he can restrain himself no longer and he comes hard in Harry’s mouth, Harry swallowing around it like what Louis is giving him is the best thing he’s ever tasted. As Louis’s breathing starts to relax and he comes down, Harry crawls back up his body and wipes his thumb over his bottom lip, sucking a stray drop of the pearly liquid into mouth.

“Breakfast of champions,” he teases and Louis rolls his eyes and makes an exaggerated groan.

“You did _not_ just say that to me, Harold,” he replies, trying to sound serious but unable to quite keep the laugher out of his voice.

“I did. Now kiss me, you fool.”

Louis bites his lip to contain his smile and then Harry smacks his lips against his, Louis opening his mouth to receive Harry’s tongue. He can taste himself in Harry’s kiss, but he’d rather taste Harry, so he pushes him off and slides down his body to return the favor.

“No good deed goes unpunished,” he taunts and when he reaches Harry’s hips, he’s not surprised to see that Harry is rock hard and leaking; the head of his lovely cock resting flush against his muscular abdomen, causing Louis to groan at the sight of him. “Fucking hell, I’ll never tire of this,” he says as he takes Harry into his mouth, Harry’s hips immediately twitching beneath him as he tries to restrain himself from bucking up into Louis’ throat.

“We should have done sixty-nine, Lou,” Harry grunts, his voice cracking as Louis sucks hard on his head. “Then we could have come together.” Louis pops off then and drops his forehead onto Harry’s thigh.

“Bloody hell, I didn’t even think of that. Jesus Christ, Haz, there are just _so_ many things I want to do with you.” Louis feels gentle fingers card through his hair.

“We’ve got all the time in the world, Louis.”

Louis doesn’t allow himself to fully think that Harry might be wrong, that this in fact might be their last full day together. Instead, he dives back in and takes Harry down as far as he can muster, the head of Harry’s cock nudging the back of his throat and Harry moaning softly as he continues to glide his fingers through Louis’ hair and tenderly scratch at his scalp.

Louis gives Harry everything. He relaxes his throat and swallows him down and as he does so, he watches the muscles of Harry’s abdomen and chest twitch and tremble because Harry is being so sweet and trying to hold still for Louis.

When Louis nudges his nose against Harry’s belly, his hand working the base of Harry’s shaft, Harry lets out the softest cry before his dick goes impossibly rigid in Louis’ mouth. He tugs on Louis’ hair in warning and Louis just sucks harder, the hot stream of come shooting down the back of his throat so fast and powerful that it almost bypasses his tongue completely. Louis swallows as best as he can, but Harry is so large and he can’t quite keep himself from coughing and spluttering as Harry nears the end of his climax. Harry tries to push Louis back, to give him some relief, but Louis doesn’t allow him, he just sucks harder and takes it until he’s swallowed every last drop and when he’s finished, he slides off Harry’s spent cock with a satisfied smile on his lips.

“I love you so fucking much, Louis,” Harry whimpers, pulling Louis up his body and wrapping him in his arms. Louis sighs happily. “I love you too, Harry,” he answers.

Harry’s chest rises and falls as he comes down from his orgasm and Louis snuggles up against him, his head resting on his shoulder and his finger gently tracing the outline of his butterfly tattoo.

“We have thirty-six minutes until our wakeup call,” Harry says, glancing at the bedside clock, his breathing finally evening out.

“Mm hmm... Well, I vote for cuddles and conversation then,” Louis replies and Harry huffs a soft laugh.

“‘Cuddles and conversation’? That’s quite cute, actually.”

“Thought you’d like it, you softie,” Louis answers, nudging Harry in the ribs. He kisses over one of Harry’s swallow tattoos; the one that Harry declared represents him, while the other signifies Louis. “ _Never saw a bird with eyebrows before_ ,” Louis had commented when they discussed the pair of birds. Harry had just grinned and shrugged, running his fingertip along Louis’ eyebrow in response.

“What shall we talk about, then?” Louis asks.

Harry turns his body and props his elbow, cradling his head in his hand. As Harry gets comfortable, Louis slides off his shoulder and pouts at the shift in positions until Harry reaches over and fluffs up a pillow and slides it beneath Louis’ head so they are facing one another, Harry’s free arm snaking out to pull Louis’ body close.

“Actually, there is something I’d like to talk to you about. I’ve been meaning to bring it up to you for days, but every time I think about it, we start snogging, or grinding, or whatever, and I get totally distracted.”

“Those sound like excellent distractions,” Louis comments.

“They are,” Harry agrees.

Louis feels a bit of nervous, anticipation fluttering in his belly, his tendency to expect the worst creeping in. “So. Um… What do you want to talk about then, love?” Louis asks, trying to keep his voice light.

“Nothing traumatic, I promise,” Harry answers with a wink. He reads Louis so well. Louis feels his tension immediately dissipate.

“Okay, then. Spill.”

Harry looks at Louis and purses his lips as if contemplating his words. He drags his index finger down the center of Louis’ chest and then up again, and then he leans in and presses a warm kiss to Louis’ mouth and pulls away. Louis just waits and stares at him, but then Harry’s mouth turns up into a shy smile, his dimple popping on his cheek as he begins to speak.

“What exactly does ‘and you smiled because you knew’ mean to you, Louis?”

Louis’ eyes go wide and his lips part in surprise, but before he can answer, Harry continues speaking.

“I thought I heard you say it to me the first time I saw you in the Advocates’ offices and I _know_ I heard you say it to me yesterday before our Reviews. You’ve said it to me a couple times and you have the same look of shock right now as you did yesterday in the Mexican restaurant when _I_ said it to you. So, I’m just really curious as to what that statement means to you, Louis.”

“Oh,” Louis answers, and clears his throat. He laughs nervously, unsure of why exactly he feels so exposed in this moment. Harry already knows Louis loves him; this shouldn’t be a big deal. “Um. It’s a line, from a favorite quote of mine.” Louis rolls his eyes towards the ceiling and lets out a breath. “I thought of it when I saw you, so I said it, and both times I said it, I saw you catch me saying it, so that was embarrassing, but yeah. It’s part of a line from a quote.”

“Tell me more about this quote, then,” Harry presses and he takes Louis’ hand in his own, threading their fingers together and looking down at them seriously.

“Well, the line I said to you wasn’t the _entire_ quote, Harry, it was just the second half.” Louis pauses, but Harry nods for him to continue, Louis swallowing thickly. “As you know, I worked in advertising when I was alive.”

“Yes, and I think that’s so amazing, Louis. I bet you were so good at your job.” Harry’s deep voice is smooth, but there is a hint of anticipation in his tone that leads Louis to believe he is very interested in hearing the rest of the story. “So, what does that have to do with the quote?”

“Um, see, my team; we were working on a campaign for a jeweler, and it was a huge account, like Cartier big,” he enthuses, outstretching their joined hands for emphasis. “And they wanted something that would really solidify diamonds going hand in hand with falling in love, and so my team spent a lot of long hours trying to come up with the perfect sentiment to convey that particular message.”

Harry nods his head in understanding, his attention never wavering as he listens to Louis speak.

“Anyway, one night I was researching romantic poetry, just googling love poems and sonnets, and that sort of thing, desperately hoping to find something that I could use in the campaign, or something that would at least spark my creativity.”

Harry nods his head once.

“I found a quote by this Italian writer and it’s actually part of an opera libretto, so not a poem exactly, not really a quote even. I guess it’s more of a verse. But it was so beautiful that I scribbled it down on a sticky note immediately. I knew it would be absolutely perfect for the campaign.”

“Oh,” Harry answers, and Louis thinks he reads a flash of disappoint on Harry’s face. “So you used it for your advertising campaign then?”

Louis shakes his head and looks down, biting his lip. “No, Harry. I didn’t use it all. Didn’t tell a single member of my team about it, in fact. It was too beautiful; I didn’t want to commercialize it.” Louis sighs and shakes his head and then looks at Harry, adding softly, “I didn’t want to cheapen something so wonderful, just to sell some jewelry.”

“You didn’t use it,” Harry says so quietly that Louis almost doesn’t hear him. The corners of Harry’s lips start to turn up into a smile and Louis thinks he looks almost relieved.

“No,” Louis replies and he feels like he is revealing himself to Harry, stripping off layers and spreading himself bare before him. He’d given up hope of ever meeting someone he cared for enough to share this story with, much less the actual quote, and then, in the strangest case scenario, when he least expected it, he found this person: a person more sweet and beautiful than he could ever hope for, and this person feels the very same about him.

“It was too special,” Louis adds and he smiles as he looks back to Harry.

“So, you said you wrote your quote down then?” Harry asks.

“Yes. I wrote the quote on a sticky note when I was doing research. I didn’t want anyone to see, so I stuck it my wallet and I came up with something else for the campaign.” Louis frames his hands in front of him then, reciting dramatically. “‘Diamonds: May your love sparkle like forever’.”

Harry slaps his hand down on the mattress.

“I remember that campaign, Louis! My god, there were billboards and adverts everywhere! That was you?”

Louis ducks his head and chuckles, “Yeah, that was me. It was a very successful campaign. That ridiculous sentiment took off and that, combined with a couple more successful campaigns, all led to my promotion. Of course, I died before I ever got to take over the corner office, but still, I was quite proud of my work.”

“You’re wonderful, Louis. You’re so smart and your words… Your words are like poetry.”

Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s lips.

“Was nothing,” Louis says, his voice humble.

“Don’t say that. Don’t belittle how good you were at your job, how good you _are_. You have a gift with words, Louis, and your gift is beautiful.”

“Harry…” Louis replies, his heart so lovesick that it just pounds in his chest.

“But back to the quote,” Harry says seriously. “It must have meant a lot to you. I mean, if you didn’t want to spoil it by turning it into a commercial.”

“It struck a chord with me. It was like, that quote was reserved for me and my –” Louis pauses and draws a deep breath. “It kind of gave me a little…” Louis’ voice trails off as he tries to find the right words to convey what he is thinking. He smiles shyly and continues. “I guess it gave me a little bit of encouragement that true love could really happen. Happen for me, that is.”

“Louis,” Harry replies, his voice soft.

“So I carried it in my wallet, to remind me that he might be out there. Somewhere.”

“He?” Harry asks.

Louis puffs out his cheeks, blowing out a slow breath of air. He runs one hand through his hair and then rubs his fingers across his forehead. He looks at Harry and answers quietly, “The one I was destined to love. The one who was destined to love me, in return. You, Harry.”

“Me.” Harry replies. He bites his lip and smiles shyly. “I’m the person you were destined to love, Louis.” His voice is sure, but his expression is curious, as if there is something simmering beneath the surface.

Suddenly, Louis lets out a nervous giggle. Harry is watching him so closely and carefully and Louis feels totally exposed, his romantic notions spread out before him for Harry to see, but he knows he has to finish.

“I carried that quote. The _entire_ quote,” he adds, “not just the part I said to you. I carried it in my wallet for over two years. Then, on my last birthday, my mum gave me a new wallet, said the beat up wallet I’d been hanging on to since Uni was past its prime and I needed a billfold worthy of an executive.”

He smiles at the memory of his mother handing him the carefully wrapped gift. The new wallet was beautiful, it was from a high-end design house and was far more money than his mother could afford to spend but she was so proud to give it to him that Louis knew he couldn’t break her heart by making her return it to get her money back. So instead, he just hugged her tight and thanked her repeatedly. She was so thrilled by the way Louis fawned over her gift that he made a point of bringing it up every now and again, telling her it was the nicest present he’d ever received.

Louis clears his throat, Harry still staring at him and waiting patiently for Louis to continue. “Anyway, I was transferring my credit cards and all that from my old wallet into the new one my mum gifted me, when I realized the slip of paper with the quote written on it was gone.”

Harry lets out an audible gasp and shakes his head, his expression shocked. “Shit, Louis,” he whispers. He sits completely upright, turning his body to face Louis straight on. “You… You lost the note?”

“Yeah. It must have fallen out when I was paying for petrol or groceries, or I don’t know, but it was gone and I had no idea how long it had been missing because I hadn’t pulled it out in a while, but I felt a bit crushed, if I’m being honest.” Harry looks at him, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted, and then he pulls Louis’ hand up to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. The electricity that Louis’ feels at Harry’s simple gesture is enough to power a building.

“I just… I thought I would give that slip of paper to someone, someday, you know? As a token… To show them how much they mattered…”

“Maybe someone found it,” Harry whispers and his eyes lock on Louis’.

“Maybe,” Louis answers. “If they did, I hope they thought it was as beautiful as I did. I hope it meant something to them.” He smiles and adds softly, “I hope they find their true love.”

“Louis,” Harry says quietly. He runs his hands over his thighs, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, a slight tremble in his voice as he speaks. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, darling,” Louis answers; he looks Harry up and down then and fully registers his shocked expression. “Are you okay, love? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” He waves his index finger back and forth between them. “Which is pretty amusing actually, when you consider our situation. I mean, being dead and all that.”

“I-I’m okay, Lou. I just need to ask you something very important.”

Louis feels goosebumps break out on his skin, because the look Harry is giving him is so serious that Louis is almost afraid of what he’s going to ask. He swallows thickly and whispers, “You can ask me anything, Harry.”

Harry draws in a deep breath and then speaks, his eyes boring into Louis’ as he asks the question, “Was the sticky note you lost bright yellow, Lou?”

Louis feels like he has suddenly been shot out of a cannon, the ground beneath him disappearing as he soars weightless through the sky. He looks at Harry and he can’t form words to answer. He’s completely frozen as if time has stood still.

“Was there a cartoon of a superhero printed on the corner of your sticky note, Louis?” Harry asks and his expression is hopeful, as if Louis’ answer holds the key to the universe.

Louis quickly sits up on his knees, his mouth opening and closing as he tries and fails to form words. He slowly nods his head as he stares at Harry. The two just look at each other and don’t say a word.

“ _This can’t be real. This can’t be real_ ,” he thinks, but he knows that it is. He feels his heartbeat pounding in his chest, the blood pumping through his veins, and his hands begin to shake ever so slightly.

“Spiderman.”

Louis and Harry both say it at the same time.

Harry throws his head back and barks a watery laugh, but Louis can barely move, so overwhelmed by the idea that when they were both alive on Earth, Harry somehow saw the very note that he wrote: a note that Louis carried around in his wallet for over two years. How is it even possible? How did it even happen?

“I loved Spiderman,” he finally manages to eek out. “My secretary gave me the Spiderman sticky notes a few years back. Told me there was no reason we couldn’t have ‘fun’ office supplies.” His voice squeaks, his emotions overwhelming him. He looks down and shakes his head. “I loved those sticky notes.” He looks back up at Harry and Harry looks just as overcome as Louis feels. “This can’t be happening,” he whispers.

Harry swallows and takes both of Louis’ hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over the tops of Louis’ knuckles. “I thought we only had the tattoos in common, Lou, but it turns out there is so much more.” Louis nods and lets out a watery gasp, more of a cry than a breath.

“You saw my note,” Louis answers softly. He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again a single tear glides down his cheek. “But how?” Harry gently wipes away the teardrop with the pad of his thumb.

“You know that I taught literature,” Harry replies, and Louis nods and then slaps his hand on his forehead.

“Oh my god, you taught literature. You recognized the quote when I said it to you, didn’t you, Harry?”

“I did,” Harry answers. “But there is more to the story than that. It goes a bit… deeper.”

“It does?”

Harry smiles and nods his head. “I was an associate professor. I taught at Kingston University.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers, “I know I was teasing you about how sexy you must have been when you taught your classes, but I want you to know that in addition to being gorgeous, you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met. I’m sure you were an amazing teacher, Haz. I can’t imagine your students not adoring you.”

Harry smiles shyly, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, it was my first post-doctorate job.” He tilts his head and adds with a nervous giggle, “And my last, I suppose.” Louis again grips both of Harry’s hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. He feels a combination of nervous excitement, his eagerness to hear what Harry has to tell him almost overpowering, but he waits patiently for Harry to make his point.

 _I’ll wait for you forever_.

“My doctoral work was centered on Shakespeare’s sonnets and during the course of my studies I came across a piece that was often attributed to him, but was in fact written by an Italian.” Louis’ eyes fall shut at Harry’s words and he inhales and exhales, using Justice Wen’s breathing technique to try to calm his nerves. “His name was ‘Arrigo Boito’,” Harry says in a perfect Italian accent.

“Oh, Harry,” Louis whispers, his voice cracking.

“I thought the verse was so very beautiful. I couldn’t imagine having a love like that verse described.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I think it meant as much to me as it did you, Louis, because I had it burned onto a piece of driftwood that I had found at New Brighton Beach when I was still in uni. The words fit on the wood perfectly and I hung it behind my desk in my office on campus. Of course, it was written in Italian, so most of the students who entered my office didn’t understand, and surprisingly, not many asked what it meant, which I was fine with, because I felt rather protective of it.”

“You had it burnt onto a piece of driftwood,” Louis repeats, his voice utterly shocked.

“I did.” Harry leans in and presses his lips to Louis’, the kiss soft and reverent. He looks down at his and Louis’ joined hands and then kisses him again and as he pulls his lips away he whispers softly, “ _Come ti vidi m’innamorai, e tu sorridi perché lo sai,_ ” in impeccable Italian.

“I… Harry…” is all that Louis can manage to say.

“So about six months or so ago,” Harry continues, “I was in Holborn because there was a bookstore I’d heard about that carried out of print books.”

“I lived in Holborn,” Louis whispers and Harry’s lips part and his eyes momentarily grow wide. He closes his eyes and nods his head before continuing.

“The book store was a total bust, but I needed a few groceries, so I stopped at Sainsbury’s on my way home.” Louis raises his eyebrows and Harry pulls one hand away from Louis’ and grazes his thumb across Louis’ bottom lip. “I usually don’t shop at Sainsbury’s, I prefer Tesco to be honest, and I certainly had never visited the one in Holborn before, but it was right there and I needed bananas, so I stopped in. Anyway, I was in the cereal aisle when I saw it, right below a box of Cocoa Pops.”

Louis cannot breathe. He cannot move. He just stares at Harry and listens.

“There was this bright yellow square of paper, it was folded in half and on the floor, but something made me bend over and pick it up. I unfolded the paper and when I saw Spiderman in the corner I thought that maybe a little kid had dropped it.”

“Hey!” Louis says, and giggles, the tension suddenly broken. Harry smiles back at him, leaning in and kissing Louis three quick times before continuing.

“The words were written in – ”

“Red ink,” Louis and Harry say simultaneously and Harry shakes his head and grins, his dimple popping on his cheek. Louis is so in love he can barely breathe.

“And then I read what was written on the paper, Louis,” Harry’s deep voice once again serious. “I just couldn’t believe it. I set my basket down in the middle of the aisle and I left the store and I sat in my car and stared at the paper for nearly a half an hour.

Harry moves closer and rests his forehead against Louis’. “And then I cried.”

“Harry,” Louis says, concern flooding his voice. “But you said you loved the quote. Why did it upset you? I’m so sorry!”

“No! Don’t be sorry. I did love it! I cried because finding that slip of paper was like an answered prayer, Louis.” He looks down and exhales slowly. “I told you about my relationship, yeah?” and Louis nods his head. “Four years, Louis. I was with my partner for four years and really only two of them could be classified as ‘happy’.”

Louis thinks back to the conversation he and Harry had on the park bench on the day they discussed their deaths. Harry had told him he had been in a bad relationship for many years, and then he remembers something else that Harry told him: that one day he found something that meant so much to him that he actually ended his long-term relationship on the spot. Harry continues speaking.

“We’ve talked a bit about your wife, so I’m sure you know what it’s like to spend your days with someone when you know in your heart it isn’t meant to be.” Louis knows exactly what Harry means. He never should have dated Eleanor for all of the years that he did, much less marry her. “I’m guessing you knew it wasn’t supposed to work out, and yet you stayed because you couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her, couldn’t stand the thought of the fallout, even if you knew you both would be better off in the long run?”

Louis nods his head. He stayed with the wrong person for so very long and all it did was hurt them both. “I knew, Harry,” he answers sincerely.

“So, I was miserable in my relationship and no longer in love, but I needed bananas so I went to the grocer and I found this bright yellow sticky note: _your_ note, Louis. I couldn’t believe it when I read your note; I was completely dumbstruck. The very words printed on that little slip of paper hung behind my desk in my office and as I held your note in my hand, all I could think of was that somewhere, another person jotted those words down because they mattered to them and that I was spending my life with a person who literally rolled their eyes and called me a ‘sap’ the first time I mentioned that quote to them.”

Louis feels a spark of anger at Harry’s partner for being so dull and insensitive as to not appreciate such beautiful words coming out of such a beautiful mouth.

“So I left my basket in the middle of the cereal aisle and I sat in my car and looked at your note and I cried, but I knew what I had to do.”

Louis doesn’t speak; he just stares, because _this is not happening_. Harry’s eyes are wet and Louis feels another teardrop fall down his own cheek.

“I tucked _your_ note into _my_ wallet, Louis. I carried it with me until the day I died, by the way.”

Louis shakes his head in disbelief.

“I went home and broke up with my partner right then and there. Of course, I was thrown out of our flat and ended up sleeping on Niall’s couch for a month or so until I found a place of my own, but I didn’t mind; it was such a relief. It was like all of the weight of the world was off my shoulders and I was no longer tethered to this toxic relationship that only rarely brought me joy. It was the best decision I ever made in my life, Louis, and I made that decision entirely because of _you_.”

“I just… I can’t believe it, Harry. You… You found my note.”

Harry nods his head, the first teardrops now falling down his face.

“I found your note, and that’s not all, Louis.”

Louis’ eyes go wide, because honestly, how much more can there be? He closes his eyes and tries to take in everything Harry has told him. Louis carried a quote about true love in his wallet for two years and lost it in a supermarket in front of a cereal display. Maybe he was digging through his wallet for a coupon, or was checking to make sure he had his grocery discount card; he really has no idea why he had his wallet out in the middle of the store, but he must have, because he dropped the note and in the strangest of all miracles, Harry found it. Harry: a man he never knew on Earth, but that he’s sure he was destined to spend eternity with, stumbled upon his sticky note and it meant something to him. Not only did it mean something to him, but also he kept it and carried it in his own wallet until he died. If this isn’t destiny, Louis doesn’t know what is.

“That’s not all?” Louis asks, his voice cracking as he tries to control his emotions. Harry shakes his head.

“ _Come ti vidi m’innamorai_ , Louis,” and then Harry repeats the words, this time in English: “I saw you and I fell in love.” Louis gasps and then chokes a sobbing laugh.

“And you smiled because you knew,” they say simultaneously.

Harry pulls Louis into his arms then and joins their lips in the softest, sweetest kiss Louis has ever known. It’s warm and it’s tender and as Harry’s pillowy lips meet Louis’ again and again, the kiss somehow manages to convey the absolute marvel of their connection. Louis understands in this moment that it doesn’t matter how unlucky he was in love on Earth. It doesn’t matter that he spent years with the wrong person, or that he fell in love with another wrong person, or that he went on dozens of bad dates with even more wrong persons. It doesn’t matter that when he was alive, he never found the person who would make him complete. Because the person he was meant to love was waiting for him on the other side and he’d much rather have Harry now, then to have ever had a love so pure and so true when he was on Earth. Time on Earth is so very temporary. If he’s lucky enough to pass his Review, the Afterlife will be forever and he will get to spend his forever with Harry.

“I was destined to find your sticky note, Louis,” Harry whispers as they pull apart. “I was destined to find _you_.”

“I saw you and I fell in love,” Louis replies, once again repeating the first stanza of the verse. Harry leans forward and kisses him again.

“And you smiled because you knew.”

 


	14. Without So Much as Defending Yourself

“I still can’t believe you wrote that note, Louis,” Harry says as they climb into Louis’ shower and stand beneath the hot spray. They’d barely gotten through the discovery that they each carried the very same slip of paper in their wallets, much less the fact that the quote written upon it meant so much to both of them, when their morning wakeup call came in and they had to force themselves out of bed to get ready for their Reviews. “It’s as if our destiny was inked into our skin and also written on a single square of yellow paper that each of us held in our hands and _you_ inscribed, Louis.”

Harry then holds out his wrist as if shooting a web like an arachnid superhero. “And who knew Spiderman was such a romantic?” he teases.

“Peter Parker was a born romantic, love. Why else would he spend so much time pining over Mary Jane?” Louis asks and then squeezes Harry’s hip. “But honestly, I can’t believe it either, Haz. The fact that we were physically connected on Earth in such a way is just… Well, it’s utterly incredible.”

“You’re utterly incredible, Louis,” Harry says, looking over his shoulder to Louis, who stands behind him pouring body wash onto a loofah sponge.

“I love when you flatter me, darling,” Louis replies as he begins to rub the soapy loofah over Harry’s back. Harry stretches his arms over his head and the way the soap bubbles look dripping down his spine and pooling in the cleft of his arse makes Louis’ mouth water, but they really don’t have time for another round. Still, Louis can’t help himself as he kisses along Harry’s shoulder, Harry making a happy little humming noise at the warm press of Louis’ lips.

“Not to change the subject, but I’m pretty sure that you and I have spent the majority of our time together getting each other off and taking showers,” Harry muses. “I swear. I’ve never felt so completely insatiable for another person as I do with you, Louis.”

“Mm hmm,” Louis agrees, wrapping his hand around Harry’s waist and reaching for his cock. He lazily starts to stroke and as he does so, Harry leans back and relaxes his body against Louis’ chest, his dick beginning to fill in Louis’ hand. Harry’s breathing becomes heavy as Louis applies just the right amount of pressure to his shaft and then gently slides back his foreskin and glides his thumb over his slit. “Time well spent,” Louis declares as he sucks and bites at the wet skin at the juncture of Harry’s neck and shoulder, causing Harry’s back to arch and his head to loll to the side. “If I haven’t told you before, I think you’re definitely right about one thing, Harry.”

“What’s that?” Harry answers, then he lets out a soft whimper as Louis glides his free hand over his balls, gently massaging the delicate skin of his sack.

“This is heaven.”

“This is heaven,” Harry repeats, his voice shaky as Louis’ picks up his pace and suddenly begins to jack him off hard and fast. He pulls his hand away from Harry’s balls then and moves it to his own hard shaft, working himself over as he continues to pull off Harry.

“Jesus Christ, you’re ambidextrous, Lou – is,” Harry marvels, his voice breaking on the last syllable of Louis’ name.

“One of my _many_ talents, love,” Louis teases. He continues to glide his hands up and down their cocks, the soap and the shower spray allowing his movements to be slick and easy, his own body responding to his touch in the same manner as does Harry’s: with broken moans and shuddering breaths.

Harry’s body goes pliant and he plants both of his hands on the shower wall and rests his forehead on the cool tile as Louis takes them both closer to the edge. “Are you going to come on my arse like I came on yours?” he grunts.

“I am,” Louis answers, then takes a shaky breath before leaning forward and whispering in Harry’s ear, “and tonight, I’m going to come _inside_ your arse, Harry.”

Louis’ words are enough to propel Harry into his climax and he lets out a soft cry and comes, the warm white liquid dripping over the top of Louis’ hand and splattering on the tile wall before being washed away by the pulsing spray of water from the showerhead.

Louis is quick to follow suit and he’s as good as his word, shooting warm strands over Harry’s firm arse, the beads of come glistening against his skin in a delicate dance with the droplets of water trickling down his cheeks. Louis rests his forehead in the dip between Harry’s shoulder blades and breathes rapid, hot puffs of air against Harry’s wet skin as they both come down. He looks at Harry’s bum and can’t help himself; he has to grip onto the sides of Harry’s cheeks and drag his thumbs through the mess he’s left there, Harry making a soft purring sound at his touch. He pulls his body away from Harry’s and watches as the water sprays down Harry’s back, rinsing him clean. Harry turns around to face him then, pulling Louis into his arms.

“Tonight,” Harry whispers, before leaning in and kissing Louis slow and deep, their tongues lazily gliding together as they continue to unwind from their orgasms. “You’re going to make love to me tonight, Louis.”

“Tonight,” Louis repeats.

 

*****

           

Forty-five minutes and a ridiculously sumptuous full English breakfast later, Louis and Harry are seated together on a tram along with their usual crew of Peter, Margaret, and Rowan. Peter and Rowan sit directly in front of Louis and Harry and Margaret sits across the aisle, all listening raptly as Peter and Rowan describe their experiences at the _Past Lives Screening_.

“Well, the screening took place in these little private booths and we were each sat in front of a large screen. There were rectangular panels mounted on the armrests of our chairs and we had to place our hands flat upon them to activate our sessions.”

“We were shown five, one minute clips of five different past lives,” Rowan interjects and Peter nods his head in agreement before continuing.

“It was the strangest experience. I could hardly believe that the different people presented onscreen shared the same soul – my soul. They were all so unique and each of them looked and acted so differently from each other, and yet, they were all… _me_.” Peter furrows his brows, his expression serious as he adds, “If it makes any sense, I could see a small part of the person that I know as _me_ in each one of them.”

“That’s exactly how I felt!” Rowan exclaims. “It’s like I was watching five complete strangers that I nonetheless vaguely recognized. I swear, that screening was so surreal; it was the ultimate example of déjà vu.” He looks to Peter then. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you at the screening, mate. Would have been fun to compare notes and share a pint after. What kind of past lives did you live, Peter?”

“Well,” Peter answers, addressing the entire group, “in the first clip, I was a blacksmith during what I would assume by my dress and surroundings was medieval times. I was a huge, muscular man with stringy hair and rotten teeth, standing in front of a fire pit, my body covered in sweat as I forged weapons for some unknown battle. It looked like a positively miserable existence. I’m quite certain I wasn’t pleased about getting sent back to Earth after that go ‘round.”

“I lived in medieval times, too!” Rowan interjects. “I was a farmer or a serf or summat, pushing a hand plow in a field.” He chuckles softly, “I guess rotten teeth were pretty common back then, because in that particular clip, mine were pretty disgusting.”

Everyone laughs and Peter nods in agreement and then continues telling the group about his own screening. In one lifetime, Peter was a Parisian artist, in another he was a chimney sweep, and still in another lifetime, Peter was an English woman of noble birth.

“I bet you were absolutely beautiful, Peter!” Margaret happily exclaims.

“I was,” Peter concurs. “In that particular clip I was rejecting the advances of a titled Viscount because I was having a secret affair with a penniless poet. Can you imagine? I had no idea my past lives would be so scandalous!”

“I’m developing a whole new level of respect for you, Peter,” Louis teases, and they all laugh. “What other life did you live, mate? Rowan said you were able to view five previous lifetimes.”

“Yes, five,” Peter answers. “The final clip was of the life I lived prior to the one that brought me here with all of you; it was my life before last, I suppose. During that lifetime I was a World War II pilot for the Royal Air Force. The clip was of me flying a Wellington bomber during the Battle of Heligoland. But the strangest thing is that the reason I know what battle I was fighting in from that brief clip is because during my last lifetime on Earth I was a diehard World War II buff and I actually recognized the planes and the landscape shown in the screening. I was really quite obsessed with the Great War during my last go on Earth. I collected memorabilia and studied the battles… And now I know why: because I actually fought and died in that terrible war.” Peter’s voice drops and he sounds absolutely awestruck. “I was so shocked when I watched the clip because I knew all about that battle from my studies; it was the first named air battle of the Second World War. To learn that I actually _took part in it_ was absolutely incredible.”

“You were a hero, Peter,” Harry comments, his voice full of admiration.

Peter shakes his head and smiles humbly. “I’m not sure about that, dear boy. I must have fallen short in the bravery department because I was sent back to Earth for another try after that lifetime ended.”

Louis feels his stomach clench. During one of Peter’s lifetimes he was a fighter pilot who battled Nazis, and yet he still failed that life’s Review and was returned to live another lifetime on Earth. If a war hero could so easily be sent back to Earth, what chances would a London ad executive who never fought so much as a traffic ticket stand of moving forward in the universe? Louis scratches his forehead and says sincerely, “No, Peter, Harry is right; you were a hero.”

Louis feels Harry’s strong hand on his thigh then, and Harry gives his leg a gentle squeeze. Comforted by Harry’s small gesture, Louis changes the subject.

“Rowan, what kind of lives did you lead, mate?” Louis asks, willing himself to let go of the anxiety he feels rolling in.

“Well, in addition to being a plowman, I was a Japanese fisherman and then a Welsh bookkeeper,” Rowan answers, “and I also worked the Scottish rail yards: cutting cross ties and laying tracks. I didn’t view any clips where I lived as a woman, like Peter, but in the last clip shown I was an Anglican monk who took a vow of silence, which would probably explain why I’ve always been so chatty; I have a lot of lost time to make up for!”

The group laughs and then Rowan’s expression turns serious and his cheeks pink, but he continues speaking. “Um… Not to put a damper on the mood, but I… I just want to tell you all that I’m quite certain that when this whole Review process is over, I won’t be moving forward to the next realm with the rest of you, and I want to let you all know that if… _when_ , I’m sent back to Earth, I’ll be okay with that decision.”

Margaret reaches across the aisle and grabs Rowan’s forearm. “Rowan! Why would you say such a thing?” she asks.

Rowan pats her hand and forces a small smile. “Now don’t look so worried, Margaret; I’m absolutely fine. It’s just that the clips of my past lives that were screened for me last night didn’t exactly exemplify any sort of confidence or fearlessness on my part. What I saw in each of my lifetimes was a man who never took chances and who never fought for what he wanted or deserved.” Rowan swallows thickly and continues speaking. “Do you know what I did for a living in my last lifetime, the one I lived before I last died and came here and met all of you?” he asks, his voice light, but the sadness evident in his tone.

Peter places his hand on Rowan’s shoulder and Louis tenses in his seat as Margaret asks, “What, dear?”

“I was a science teacher, taught in a posh private school.” Rowan looks down at his lap before raising his eyes and looking at each member of the group. “I was picked on quite a bit by my own students, but I never stood up for myself or doled out proper punishments for my pupils’ poor behavior because I lived quite comfortably and it didn’t seem worth the risk of losing my job. My students came from wealthy and powerful families and I never wanted to rock the boat; I was always afraid that assigning a detention or suspension would come back to haunt me.” Rowan fiddles with the collar of his tupa and then adds, “Apparently, failing to stand up for myself was a big mistake, because my Review has been pretty miserable and I don’t suspect it will get much better.”

“Rowan,” Margaret says gently. “Today is a new day. Perhaps your Review will go better, dear.”

Rowan lets out a rueful laugh and shakes his head ever so slightly. “Do you all want to know something funny? I was told by a bloke I met at dinner last night that The Regency is called ‘The 50/50 House’ because all the Intakes who stay there are in a pretty good position for advancement. He told me that residents of The Regency are ‘right on the cusp’,” and Rowan makes air quotes to emphasize his point. He sighs heavily. “I’m not so sure I’m on the cusp though. I was the only one from our group who wasn’t offered the _Five in Five Screening_ and I can’t help but take that as a sign.”

“Rowan,” Peter says sympathetically. “None of us know the outcome of our Reviews. Please don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Harry nods his head in agreement, as does Margaret, who adds that Rowan stands just as good a chance as anyone else of moving forward in the universe.

“Well, I beg to disagree,” Rowan replies, huffing a soft laugh. “But, I want you all to know that I’m actually okay with being sent back.”

“You are?” Louis asks, surprise evident in his tone.

Rowan nods his head. “I am. I’ve thought about it a great deal and I welcome a chance to go back to Earth and get it right. I don’t want to be embarrassed or ashamed by what I _didn’t_ do during my lifetime. I want to be brave and stand up for myself. If I go back to Earth again, I can do that.”

For a brief moment, there is silence, and then Margaret, Peter, and Harry all start chattering over one another, congratulating Rowan on his positive attitude but also ensuring him that all is not lost and he very well may advance. Peter wisely notes that nothing is guaranteed and any one of them or even all of them might get sent back to Earth for another go at life. Before long the group is laughing, the conversation light and positive.

Louis does not participate in the banter; rather, he sits in his seat and doesn’t say a word. On his face he wears a painted-on smile and he nods along with the conversation, but his heart is racing and he is anything but enthusiastic. Instead, he feels like he’s been doused in a bucket of ice water by the words Rowan used to describe the residents of The Regency: _right on the cusp_.

On more than one occasion, Marcus has told Louis that _he_ is “right on the cusp.” What if those words are nothing more than meaningless fodder to ease Louis’ stresses before everything comes crumbling down around him and he’s sent back to Earth? What if Louis is in no better a position than Rowan? Rowan seems to be accepting of his fate: embraces it even, while Louis cannot bear the thought of being sent back to Earth to be born again in a new body because that will mean he’ll be forever separated from Harry.

 _Fuck_.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm the hurricane that is swirling in his gut. He feels moisture prickle in the corner of his eyes, but he reins back his tears. He absolutely cannot cry; he _has_ to calm down.

 _Marcus wouldn’t lie to me. He wouldn’t tell me something if it weren’t true._ Louis knows he’s being honest with himself and that Marcus would never pander to Louis, simply in order to make him feel good. But still, Rowan’s words are resonating throughout his body and he needs to get his emotions back in check.

Just then, he feels two warm hands wrap over his own, fingers intertwining with his, a thumb lovingly stroking his palm.

Harry.

Louis looks to Harry and he is staring at Louis and it’s evident that Harry knows what Louis is thinking: he knows that Louis is worried and that he is starting to panic. Harry leans over, whispering in Louis’ ear.

“Just breathe, Lou. It’s going to be okay.”

Louis nods his head and draws in a deep breath and then another, Harry watching him carefully all the while, his thumbs and fingers gently caressing Louis’ hands. Louis takes one more deep breath and as he does so, he feels his worry begin to lessen. He looks at Harry and mouths “thank you,” and Harry’s lips turn up in the slightest smile, but his eyes are sad and Louis knows it’s because Harry can’t stand to see Louis doubt himself; he loves Louis and wants him to believe in himself and Louis wants that too, but this whole Review experience has been so stressful and as each moment passes he finds himself more and more consumed with the worry that he will be sent back to Earth.

“We’re moving forward together,” Harry whispers in his ear.

“We’re moving forward together,” Louis quietly repeats and Harry presses the softest kiss on his cheek.

He closes his eyes for a moment in concentration.

 _We’re moving forward together_.

Once again, Louis wills himself to believe it.

 

******

 

Ten minutes later, Louis and Harry are stood between the open doors of their Review Rooms, locked in a warm embrace and lovingly kissing each other as if they aren’t standing in a corridor bustling with Intakes, advocates and delegates.

“Feeling better now, Lou?” Harry asks, dragging his thumb along Louis’ jaw.

“Yeah. I was just a bit panicked for a minute there. What Rowan said about getting sent back to Earth really got to me, but I’m okay now. I promise.”

Harry’s responding smile lights up his whole face and Louis can’t help but smile in return.

“I saw you and I fell in love,” Harry says, grinning proudly. Louis leans forward and kisses him soundly on the lips.

“And you smiled because you knew,” they both answer together, and a rush of love fills Louis’ heart as the words leave his mouth. He reaches forward then and tucks a loose curl behind Harry’s ear, grazing his fingertips along his cheek.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fact you found my note, Haz. We’re destined to be together.”

“We are,” Harry agrees and then gives Louis two quick pecks on the lips for good measure.

Louis looks at his watch and reluctantly notes that their Reviews are scheduled to start in a few minutes and they should probably go inside their respective rooms. Harry pulls him in for a tight hug.

“I just need three minutes. Three minutes to snog you properly and then we can go,” Harry whispers, repeating the mantra he and Louis have said to each other on more than one occasion when they didn’t want to end an embrace. Louis melts into his arms and relaxes into a deep and tender kiss before finally pulling free.

“We’ll meet right here when we get out, Haz, and then we’ll go have lunch, yeah?”

“That’ll be great, Louis,” Harry answers. His eyes rake over Louis’ face, as if he’s trying to memorize every feature before they have to separate. He gently brushes the tip of his index finger over the small smattering of freckles on Louis’ cheek, just above the outside corner of his lip, and then kisses the spot reverently. “Let’s go back to the park, yeah? I kind of want to snog you on that bench again.”

Louis ducks his head and bites his lip, but he cannot help the grin that overtakes him. “Yeah, Harry. I’d like that too,” he answers.

They pull into another quick hug and then grudgingly part ways.

Louis enters his Review room and finds Marcus hunched over the delegates’ desk furiously reading through a stack of papers that are not printed with words, but rather are covered in a letters and abstract symbols. He is utterly lost in his work and doesn’t seem to hear Louis enter the premises, much less raise his head in acknowledgment.

Louis pads quietly over to him and carefully places his hand on Marcus’ shoulder.

“Good morning, mate,” he says softly, so as not to startle him.

Marcus nonetheless jerks back sharply, obviously surprised by Louis’ presence.

“Louis!” he exclaims, but there is something about the tone of Marcus’ voice that causes Louis to pause.

Louis puts his hands up. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you, Marcus; you were concentrating so hard on what you’re… um… reading, that I thought I’d take a quiet approach.” Louis furrows his brows and peeks at the papers Marcus holds in his hands. “What _are_ you reading, mate? It looks like you’ve got a spreadsheet written by Martians in front of you.”

“Martians are lovely people, Louis,” Marcus answers simply and Louis’ eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“Wha – ”

Marcus cuts Louis off with a loud bark of laughter.

“I’m just kidding, Louis,” Marcus says, shaking his head. He lowers his breath and mutters, “Your brain is much too little right now to learn about life on planets beyond Earth.” Louis rolls his eyes.

“Very, funny, Mr. Forty-eight Percent,” Louis retorts. “But seriously, Marcus, how can you read that mess?” Marcus smiles at Louis and ushers him to take a seat beside him.

“Well, Louis, this is just another form of the written word. When you use more of your brain, you’ll understand that the common alphabet contains a lot of unnecessary characters and symbols.” He holds up the sheaf of papers before him and points at the columns of numbers and odd characters in emphasis. “What I’m reading are notes on your Review, and because they’re written in a more sophisticated and believe it or not, _simplistic_ text, I can scroll through them and process them quite quickly.”

“Your brain is a literal computer,” Louis marvels.

“It is. But don’t worry; you’ll get there some day,” Marcus teases. He looks back over the notes for another minute and then furrows his brow, a scowl evident on his face. He drops the notes on the table and lets out a heavy breath, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck and shaking his head.

“Erm… What’s in those notes that has got you so upset, Marcus?” Louis asks, his voice tentative. “Should I be worried?”

“Oh! Sorry, Louis. No. I’m not upset about anything I’m reading in these notes, although, to be fair, I should prepare you that your sessions today are going to be difficult.” Louis feels his stomach drop, his body suddenly tense.

 _Shit_.

Marcus reads the change in Louis’ affect immediately. “Listen, I didn’t say that to upset you, Louis; I said it to _prepare_ you. You know that I can’t tell you about the clips, but I can tell you to remember the advice that I’ve given you from the start: consider your motivation for your actions at the time the clips took place and believe in yourself. I believe in you, Louis, and now more than ever, it’s important that _you_ believe in you too.”

“I’ll try, Marcus. I promise,” Louis answers. He draws in a deep breath through his nose, blowing it out his mouth, realizing that he’s becoming increasingly dependent on Chief Justice Wen’s breathing exercises to calm his nerves.

“Good.”

Louis tries to let what Marcus just told him about his Review go and returns to the original subject at hand. “So, um, what’s got you so tense this morning, mate?”

Marcus gives Louis a wry smile.

“I wouldn’t say that I’m tense so much as… _irritated_.”

“Well, what’s got you irritated, then? Unless, of course, you don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to intrude.”

Marcus gently punches Louis on the shoulder but it’s not an antagonistic act, it’s more a gesture of friendship. “It’s nothing really, I just had a bit of an argument with my wife – about breakfast food – of all the crazy things.”

“You argued with your wife about breakfast food?” Louis asks, barely masking his surprise. “But… but, she’s your soul mate. I… Well… I didn’t think soul mates ever fought, Marcus.” Marcus huffs a laugh.

“Of course soul mates fight, Louis. Just because we’re in love and meant to be together, doesn’t mean that we never disagree.” He chuckles lowly. “Besides, can you imagine how boring eternity would be if you agreed with your soul mate on every little thing?”

“But Harry and I have never argued,” Louis counters.

“Trust me, Louis,” Marcus states emphatically. “You’ll disagree about something eventually and I promise you, that first argument will make you think the universe is ending, but you and Harry are soul mates and just like me and my wife, you’ll work it out because you love each other more than anything and that’s all that really matters.”

Louis drums his fingers on the tabletop, contemplating. “I can’t imagine ever having an argument with Harry, but I’ll take your word for it, Marcus.” He blows out a puff of air, causing his fringe to flap on his forehead. “So, let me guess, your wife was trying to get you to eat normal breakfast food like Captain Crunch or Cocoa Pops and you insisted on eating that smelly gruel you love instead?” Marcus smiles at Louis and shakes his head.

“Nah, it was nothing like that, Louis, and for the record, my wife loves the same kind of ‘gruel’ that I do. She uses fifty-one percent of her brain, after all.” Louis raises his eyebrows, impressed. “Anyway, our argument wasn’t really about breakfast, we were just sniping at each other because we are dealing with a much larger disagreement that we’re currently unable to discuss.”

“Why can’t you discuss what you’re both really angry about, Marcus? I don’t understand,” Louis asks.

He’s completely confused. Who knew relationships in the Afterlife were so complex? Louis just assumed that on this side of life, everyone in love was blissfully happy at all times: not unlike the way that he feels when he’s with Harry. He can’t fathom the thought of arguing with Harry over something as simple as breakfast foods, or something so large that it can’t even be discussed. The idea of Harry being angry with him over anything really is almost unfathomable and completely upsetting to Louis.

Marcus stares at Louis for a long moment as if considering something very important. He tilts his head to the side and ever so slightly nods his head and then speaks. “I think that’s a conversation best saved for another day, Louis. I don’t want to distract you with mine and my wife’s current predicament. We need to focus on your Review.”

“Okay, but can you answer one question for me?” Marcus nods his head in agreement and Louis continues. “Do soul mates ever break up? Do they get divorced?”

Marcus smiles knowingly. “No, Louis. A soul mate is an eternal bond. Let me assure you, my wife and I will be fine. This too shall pass. And when that day comes that you and Harry have your first real argument, you’ll work through it too.”

Louis relaxes in his chair, relieved. “Glad to know you two will stick it out, Marcus,” he says, a hint of teasing in his tone.

“Well Louis, we’ve been together for nearly three hundred years; one week of arguing is certainly not going to break us.”

Louis’ mouth drops open. “Three hundred years,” he repeats, his voice full of awe. “You’ve been with your wife three hundred years, Marcus?”

“Two hundred ninety-eight, to be more precise, but we’re nearing the three hundred mark.” He leans in conspiratorially. “I cannot wait for the party we’re going to throw for the ‘big three-O-O’,” Marcus laughs. “We’re going to raise the roof for sure!”

Louis is unable to respond: too overwhelmed by the awe-inspiring longevity of Marcus and his wife’s relationship. _Three hundred years_. It’s amazing really, and he can’t believe he’ll get to have that with Harry one day.

 _If I pass my Review,_ he thinks.

Marcus squeezes Louis’ shoulder as if he knows what he’s thinking. He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted when the door to the Review Room bursts open and in marches Ileana. She walks over to the delegate’s table without giving Louis and Marcus so much as a passing glance and drops her briefcase heavily on the tabletop, startling Louis and causing him to jump slightly in his seat. Ileana looks up at the sound of Louis’ movements and raises her hands in apology.

“Louis! I’m so sorry!” she exclaims sincerely. She looks at Marcus and raises an eyebrow disdainfully, returning her attention to Louis. “I didn’t see you both sitting there, I apologize if I startled you.”

“No worries,” Louis answers and he can’t help but smile at her, because when she isn’t trying to tear his whole world apart, she really seems to be a lovely person.

“Thank you, Louis,” Ileana replies and smiles at him warmly. “Marcus,” she says and tilts her head toward Marcus. Marcus eyes her wearily. “Ileana,” he replies, returning the small gesture of acknowledgement.

Just then, the three justices enter the Review Room and Louis, Marcus, and Ileana all stand. Louis feels his heartbeat quicken its pace and he suddenly feels warm all over. He clenches his fists into tight balls and then takes a deep breath and relaxes his hands, stretching out his fingers. _I can do this_ , he thinks to himself. He cannot allow his nerves to get the best of him; he needs to stay focused and positive if he wants to move forward.

After the Chief Justice welcomes everyone to the day’s proceedings and dispenses with the usual morning pleasantries, Day Three in the Review of Louis William Tomlinson gets underway and Louis is asked to take his usual seat in the Screening Chair. As Louis stands from his seat at the advocate’s table, Marcus leans over to him, whispering in his ear, “Believe in yourself, Louis.” He holds out his fist to Louis and Louis makes his own fist in return, bumping them together.

Once Louis is settled in the Screening Chair, Chief Justice Wen instructs those present that Ileana will be presenting first and Ileana stands from her seat, smoothing her hands over her skirt before walking in front of the delegate’s table and announcing that she’ll be showing a clip from 21.12.6

“Mr. Tomlinson, I’m sure by now you understand how the dates are presented during Reviews, but just to clarify, this morning we’ll be looking at the twenty-first year of your life, twelfth month, sixth day,” the Chief Justice instructs.

Louis nods his head. “Yes, your honor, I understand.”

“Very well. Ms. Bachchan, you may begin.”

Louis’ chair instantly rotates to face the viewing screen and the lights dim in the Review Room as the screen comes to life.

 _Here we go_ , Louis thinks to himself.

The scene presented takes place in a large conference room and as the camera pans over its stylish brick walls and polished wooden floor, one thought springs into Louis’ mind: _the internship_.

The camera zooms in to the center of the room and a huge oval table, where twenty-one-year-old Louis Tomlinson and a group of fourteen other similarly aged men and women are seated at the far end. At the opposite end of the table sit six executives: four men and two women, all of whom are dressed in expensive tailored suits and are watching carefully as their younger tablemates take turns presenting campaigns that they have developed as their final assignment of their fall internships.

From the Screening Chair, Louis lets out a heavy sigh, because he remembers this day quite vividly: it certainly was a low point in an otherwise successful fall term.

Prior to the start of his final year at university, Louis had been offered a prestigious internship with the top London advertising firm of Bradley, Bakker and Whitfield. From the start of the summer throughout the fall of his final year at uni, Louis worked at the firm full-time for zero pay, although he did earn school credit for his efforts.

Actually, Louis worked more than full time; he was so dedicated to the agency that he sometimes spent upwards of fifty to sixty hours a week in their offices: trailing copywriters around, studying the company archives, and learning all aspects of the business. Louis was so enamored with the firm that he didn’t even mind all of the menial work that came with the internship and he was more than happy to go on food runs or help the administrative assistants with the filing. There wasn’t a task too big or too small that Louis Tomlinson wasn’t eager to accomplish.

The fact of the matter was that Bradley, Bakker and Whitfield was one of the top agencies in London, its closest competitor, The Pemberton Group, constantly on its heels in a fight over the number one agency position. Louis hoped that if he worked hard enough during his internship and really showed that he had a knack for the business he might be hired as a junior copywriter upon graduation. He had excellent marks in school and the highest recommendations from his professors, but earning this internship was a huge step towards a future career and one that he hoped would propel him into the big leagues.

In total, Bradley, Bakker and Whitfield had taken on fifteen interns from across Great Britain, but _only_ Louis was asked to stay on at the end of the summer program and continue with a second internship group in the fall. He was extremely honored by the offer and spent an entire afternoon with his academic advisor rearranging his course schedule and signing up for night classes so that he could accept the second internship and still graduate on time.

The clip currently being shown onscreen took place the final week of Louis’ fall internship, when he and his fellow interns had to present campaign proposals to members of the company’s Executive Board. The fifteen interns were grouped into five teams of three interns each and the individual teams had to fully develop an ad campaign for the 2013 Toyota Highlander SUV. If the winning campaign was deemed worthy, the company would use all or components of the proposed campaign in an actual Highlander advert and so the competition was fierce.

In addition, the company chose a “Star Intern” award that they presented to the top intern at the end of each internship cycle; Louis had won that award at the end of his summer internship and he wanted to win it again for the fall. If he did so, he’d be the first intern ever to win the award back-to-back and it would certainly be quite a bright addition to his resume and portfolio. He knew that if his team could win the Highlander ad challenge, he stood a good shot of earning that award again.

Louis squeezes the armrests of the Screening Chair and silently watches as everyone onscreen claps as a team of interns finishes their presentation and returns to the conference table to take their seats. Juliet Whitfield, President and partner of the agency then stands to announce the next team to present.

“Now, for our fifth and final presentation of the afternoon, we have Louis Tomlinson, Thomas Bakker and Sarah Schultz.” The people seated around the conference table clap politely and Juliet winks at Louis and mouths, “Show us what you’ve got, Tomlinson.”

From his seat in the Screening Chair, Louis smiles at the interaction. Juliet was by far his biggest champion at the firm and he worked with her often on both large and small projects.

Louis and the two others from his team stand and Louis strides confidently to the front of the room. He’s dressed in neatly pressed black dress trousers, a crisp white button-up with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and bright blue patterned braces with a matching bow tie. His fringe is artfully styled and swooped to the side and he’s smiling broadly because he already knows that the campaign his team came up with is significantly better than those that have already been presented. Well, the campaign he and Sarah came up with. Tom barely contributed at all.

 _I forgot about the braces phase_ , Louis thinks to himself and shakes his head. He looks so young and enthusiastic as he stands in front of the group and he cannot help the smile that escapes his lips as he watches his younger self begin to set a series of storyboards on the easels that are lined in a row a couple of meters from the head of the conference table. Each storyboard is covered in a black sheet of poster board so that the campaign can be revealed one piece at time. Louis’ is the only team to take such an approach.

“Who will be presenting for your team?” Juliet asks.

Louis raises his hand in the air. “I will, Ms. Whitfield,” he replies.

Louis was an obvious choice to present; not only did he come up with all of the copy and the slogan for the campaign, but he and Sarah created almost the entire project on their own with very little input or help from Tom, who spent the majority of their group meetings chatting on the phone to his mates or stepping outside for frequent smoke breaks, some of which he never even bothered returning from. Sarah was a brilliant artist and she produced all of amazing graphic designs for the campaign, but she was painfully shy and made it very clear that she wasn‘t comfortable with the task of presenting their work to a roomful of colleagues and executives. Tom’s lack of contribution to the campaign also resulted in a lack of knowledge about what the campaign entailed, so it was tactfully suggested that Louis should present since he knew the storyboards inside and out.

“Very well, Louis,” Juliet replies. “You may begin.”

The Louis onscreen claps his hands together and begins to speak, and from his seat in the Screening Chair, Louis marvels at how good his younger self was at commanding a room and he allows himself to indulge in the pride swelling his chest, because even as an intern, Louis Tomlinson excelled at his job. The Louis onscreen stretches out his arms and begins to describe the campaign and its various platforms.

“For our submission, my team and I have designed a multi-tiered campaign comprised of print, radio and television adverts.” Louis goes on to explain the different manifestations of each before stepping to the storyboards and describing how each ad will unfold.

“Whether navigating the great outdoors,” Louis says as he reveals the first storyboard. The storyboard features a series of sequential, graphic illustrations of a Toyota Highlander, a man in a stocking cap and flannel shirt behind the wheel, laughing with a group of raucous cohorts who are dressed in the same fashion. The Highlander is driven through an open field and then across a shallow riverbed; the final illustration is of its tailgate disappearing into the wilderness.

“Or the city streets,” Louis continues as he reveals the next storyboard: this one featuring colorful graphics of a professional woman dressed in business attire driving the Highlander through metropolitan areas, with both day and evening cityscapes depicted.

“The coastal lowlands, or the Scottish highlands.” Louis reveals the next set of graphics, these displaying a young couple seated in the vehicle, with the Highlander zipping along an ocean-side highway and then climbing up a Scottish hillside.

“Or the streets that you call ‘home’,” Louis reveals the final set of storyboards then, the graphics depicting a typical suburban mum and dad driving an SUV full of rowdy boys and girls dressed in footie gear from a football arena to a quant ice cream stand.

“Only one sports utility vehicle is built to accommodate rocky roads as easily as it handles smooth terrain.” The Louis onscreen frames his hands in front of his body and then dramatically delivers his campaign’s tag line: “The Toyota Highlander; _drive the adventure of your life_.”

Louis finishes his presentation and the conference room is completely silent, the executives and interns stunned by the pure professionalism and quality of the campaign. Louis stands there proudly, but the Louis in the Screening Chair feels a flash of confusion, not unlike he did on that day so long ago, when the silence in the room drags on longer than one would expect. That confusion is quickly quelled when the Chief Operating Officer, Richard Bakker, rises from his seat and begins to clap. The other executives follow suit and stand alongside him, the interns joining in until the entire room is filled with the sound of applause.

In that moment featured onscreen, the young Louis Tomlinson felt a rush of pride because he knew the presentation he spent countless hours laboring over was a smashing success. Sitting in his Screening Chair reliving that moment for the second time, the now-deceased Louis Tomlinson feels the exact same way.

 _That was a bloody good campaign_ , he thinks to himself.

And it was. It won the Highlander challenge hands down, easily leaving the four other offerings in the dust. Louis closes his eyes for a moment and remembers how amazing the applause felt, how he absolutely knew that he had found his calling in life and that he also knew in that moment that he was going to have a very successful career.

“I, for one, would love to know which of you lot came up with the slogan, ‘Drive the adventure of your life’?” a male voice seated at the end of the conference table asks. The voice belongs to William Bradley, partner in the firm and the head of the creative department. Louis smiles broadly and is just about to speak when Tom Bakker cuts him off.

“I did!” Tom exclaims assuredly.

Louis’ mouth drops open and he takes a step forward, his shock at Tom’s words literally causing him to move from his spot by the final display easel where his feet were firmly planted. He looks over to Sarah, whose own mouth is mimicking Louis’. Her eyes are wide and her brow is furrowed; she looks utterly stunned and completely mortified. The Louis onscreen fish-mouths for a moment and then schools his expression, but Sarah does not, she just looks back and forth between Louis and Tom as if she is watching some kind of horror show, which, she in fact, is.

“Tom, you came up with the campaign slogan?” Juliet asks, barely masking the skepticism in her voice.

“Yes. Well, we _all_ worked very hard on this project together, but I came up with the slogan, well, most of the copy, actually, and I’m just so pleased that you all like it.”

From his seat in the Screening Chair, Louis goes through the exact series of emotions his younger self did at that moment. First, Louis is shocked and confused, because why in the world would Tom claim Louis’ work as his own? Then he feels anger; it bubbles up from his gut and causes his breathing to pick up pace, his body hot and his skin prickling with gooseflesh. Louis looks at his younger self and he sees that his anger was quite evident in that moment, as the Louis onscreen balls his hands into fists so tight that his knuckles turn white in stark contrast to his neck and face, which are beet red with rage. Louis’ chest rises and falls heavily, but he doesn’t say anything in protest, he simply stands there, completely shell-shocked.

Then the absolutely worst thing happens: Louis feels a wave of panic. From his position watching the viewing screen, he knows that his younger self was taken completely off guard by Tom’s blatant lie and he remembers that he had no idea how to handle the situation and worst of all, he remembers feeling very _afraid_ that he might handle the situation wrong.

Juliet tilts her head and squints her eyes at Tom. “We all know Sarah is a graphics girl and it’s evident that the images that accompany your campaign belong to her, but if you came up with the copy and slogan, Tom, what exactly did Louis contribute?”

Watching the scene unfold before him, Louis knows that Juliet knew immediately that Tom was lying. Tom didn’t have a creative bone in his body and he never would have conceived of such smart copy. In fact, he wasn’t even qualified to earn an internship with Bradley, Bakker and Whitfield in the first place. Everyone at the firm knew the only reason he won one of the coveted intern positions was because his father was Richard Bakker, senior partner and COO.

“Oh, Louis contributed a lot,” Tom says, his voice smug. “He really helped craft the idea of the vehicle being showcased in different types of terrains, and of course, he presented our campaign to all of you, and he did a great job.”

 _He lied so bloody easily_ , Louis thinks to himself. He feels so angry watching Tom onscreen, his voice confident as he blatantly lies to Louis’ bosses and colleagues. But most of all, Louis feels angry at himself for just standing there and taking it.

“Is that true, Louis?” Juliet asks, and her eyes are wide, as if she’s imploring him to step up and refute Tom’s claims.

Louis opens and closes his mouth, trying to find his voice, but no sound comes out. He looks to Sarah, who just stands there, gripping the hem of her blouse and staring at the floor. Louis clears his throat. “Um – ”

“Well, I for one am very proud each of one of you,” Richard Bakker exclaims, effectively cutting Louis off before he even begins to properly speak. He strides to the front of the conference room and shakes Louis’ hand enthusiastically. He grasps Sarah’s hand next and she smiles at him meekly, but discomfort is written all over her face. She looks over at Louis and her expression is frozen and helpless, like a deer caught in headlights. When Richard approaches his son, Tom, he shakes his hand and then pulls him into a quick hug, and Louis distinctly hears him say, “I’m so proud of you, son,” as he releases him from his grip.

Louis’ heart sinks as he watches the scene from the Screening Chair and he knows that the heavy, burning feeling in his chest is exactly what he was feeling in the very moment presented onscreen. He feels conflicted and frightened and ashamed and most of all he feels incredibly angry. It’s as if all of those negative emotions from that day in the conference room are currently competing with each other for Louis’ sole attention, and anger and disgust are in first place.

The screen fades to black and the lights in the Review Room come up. Louis’ chair turns to face the justices. He lets out a heavy sigh and looks to Marcus, who lifts his fist off the table in a gesture of empowerment. Louis nods weakly, but doesn’t return the gesture. He’s not feeling very empowered.

Ileana walks over to Louis and stares at him carefully for a moment before speaking.

“Are you okay, Louis?” she asks.

“Yes,” he replies, but he doesn’t meet her eyes, instead he looks down at his lap.

“Would you like a glass of water?” she presses.

Louis lifts his head and looks at Ileana directly. “No. I don’t want any water; I’m fine. Don’t you suppose we should get on with the questioning?” he snaps. He immediately slaps his hand over his mouth, mortified that he voiced such a snarky comment. Ileana raises her eyebrows in surprise and then nods her head.

“Very well then,” she answers. Louis draws in a deep breath, shocked by his own behavior.

“I’m so sorry,” he says sincerely. “That was very rude of me.” He rubs his forehead and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. He’s not sure _what_ just came over him, but he supposes it’s the residual anger he has at Tom for staking claim over his idea so many years ago. Regardless, he’s embarrassed for barking at Ileana in such a manner and he wants to convey to her just how sorry he is. “I guess I feel a bit angry right now having watched that clip, but I’ve no right to take that anger out on you. I apologize.” Ileana’s expression softens and she offers Louis a kind smile.

“That’s quite all right, Louis. I know these screenings tend to bring up long-buried emotions and that right now you’re experiencing the same feelings you did on the day of the clip. I understand you’re upset and I know your anger wasn’t really directed at me. Are you sure you’re okay to continue?”

“I am,” Louis answers, nodding his head. He feels a little flush of relief that Ileana so graciously accepted his apology, but he doesn’t have time to bask in the feeling, because she starts questioning him immediately.

“Louis, the clip we just watched was from an internship you had during your final year of university, is that correct?”

“It is,” Louis replies. “I was chosen two terms in a row to intern at Bradley, Bakker and Whitfield. It was a top advertising agency in London and quite an honor.”

“I see.” Ileana turns away from Louis then and walks a few paces before turning back to him. “Can you explain to the justices what was taking place during the clip we just watched?”

“Um. Well, at the end of each internship cycle, the interns were grouped onto teams and were tasked with developing an advertising campaign for a particular product or service. During that specific cycle, we were given the Toyota Highlander. What you all just saw,” and he looks to the justices, “was the group presentation of my team.”

“It was a very smart campaign, Louis. I’ve never even driven a motor vehicle, yet it actually made me want to run out and buy a Toyota Highlander,” Ileana muses. Louis ducks his head and bites his lip. He feels a warm blush spread on his cheeks. He never could help himself from feeling a wave of pride when someone complimented his work and even though he knows Ileana is about to go for the jugular, he can’t help but feel that pride now.

“Thank you,” he replies humbly. A warm smile briefly flickers across Ileana’s lips but then she looks away from Louis and schools her expression before once again meeting his gaze.

“Now then, as we saw in the clip, your boss William Bradley specifically asked who came up with your team’s campaign slogan and your teammate, Tom, claimed that the slogan was his idea.”

Louis instantly wants to shrink into his chair. He takes a deep breath, in through the nose out through the mouth, willing his nerves to settle.

“Yes, Tom claimed the slogan and the copy were his,” Louis agrees. Ileana looks at Louis pointedly.

“Did Tom come up with the slogan and copy, Louis?” Louis closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“No,” he answers, his voice squeaking. He holds his fist up to his mouth and coughs, clearing his throat. “No, he didn’t.”

“Who came up with the slogan and copy then, Louis? Was it Sarah, the other member of your team?” Ileana presses, even though Louis knows she knows the answer.

“No. Sarah was in charge of the graphic illustrations. She was an artist, not a copywriter.”

“I see. So if Tom didn’t come up with the slogan and copy, and Sarah didn’t come up with the slogan and copy, then who did, Louis?”

“I did,” Louis answers quietly.

“You did?” Ileana asks, feigning surprise. “Well, perhaps I’m missing something, because in the clip we all just watched, Tom claimed that the slogan and copy were his brainstorm and yet you stood by and said nothing. You allowed him to take credit for your design without so much as defending yourself. Isn’t that true, Louis?”

Louis swallows thickly. “Yes,” he mutters, and he feels his cheeks flush.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you, Louis.”

“Yes,” Louis repeats, and this time his voice is louder and tinged with anger. But now, in addition to the anger that is searing through his bones, his old friend, shame, has joined the party. It’s exactly how he felt on that day when he stood silently by Tom’s side and allowed Tom to take credit for his work. He knows the emotions he is feeling go hand in hand with the Review process, but he just wants to jump out of his seat and run back in time and punch Tom squarely on the jaw. How dare he claim Louis’ hard work as his own? It was an absolutely unbelievable situation and one that Louis _allowed_ to happen.

“Why did you let Tom take credit for your work, Louis?” Ileana asks, and her tone is softer, as if she knows that Louis is on edge of an outburst. Louis shakes his head and draws in a deep breath, willing his rage and shame to dissipate. He looks down at his lap and takes another deep breath and as he does so, he starts to feel calm wash over him, the intense emotions instigated by the screening starting to ease.

Just then, there is an outburst of laughter from the Review Room next door: Harry’s room, and the sound hits Louis like a much-needed breath of fresh air. Louis can’t help himself and he chuckles and shakes his head, the fact that Harry is having another successful session filling his heart with a rush of warmth and further easing the tension he feels coursing through his veins. He looks to Marcus.

“My boy,” Louis mouths.

Marcus smiles and winks back at him, mouthing, “Your boy,” in response.

“Louis, I asked you a question,” Ileana says, completely ignoring the commotion from the room next door, as well as Louis’ response to it. “Why did you allow Tom to take credit for your work?”

“I-I don’t know,” Louis answers, his attention once again returning to his own Review. “At first I was so shocked that I couldn’t even speak. It was all so unbelievable… and then… well, I’m not sure what happened. I just felt so angry, but also completely mystified because Sarah and I had worked so hard on that campaign and Tom just waltzed in and claimed credit and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Your boss, Juliet, asked you directly if Tom was telling the truth when he claimed your work as his own. She gave you an out. You could very easily have stood up for yourself in that instant and said that Tom was lying, that the slogan and copy were created by you, not him, and yet you stood by and did nothing.”

“I started to speak. I _was_ going to say something, but then Richard Bakker stood up and it just didn’t…” Louis scrunches his face as he searches for the proper words to convey what was going through his head on that day. “It just didn’t seem appropriate. All of the interns and executives were gathered and had I refuted Tom’s claim, I might have come across looking petty or unprofessional…” Louis’ voice trails off, because _he’s_ not even buying his own argument, even though those were his true feelings at the time.

“So, instead of risking looking ‘unprofessional’,” Ileana says, making air quotes on the last word, “you allowed your work to be appropriated by another member of your team. Do you really expect the justices to believe such an excuse?” Louis is about to answer, but before he can open his mouth to respond, Ileana barrels on. “Wouldn’t a more accurate answer be that you were afraid to stand up for yourself, Louis?”

“What? No!” Louis shakes his head vehemently. “That’s not true!”

“You wanted to secure a job with Bradley, Bakker and Whitfield when you graduated university, isn’t that true?”

“Yes, but – ”

“Tom’s last name was Bakker, Louis, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

“He was your boss’s son, isn’t that right?

Louis swallows thickly. “Yes,” he answers, his voice heavy.

“You knew that if you made a fuss about your boss’s son stealing your idea, if you embarrassed Tom by calling him out on taking credit for your work, you might upset his father and that could cost you the job you worked so hard for.”

Louis runs his hands over his thighs. “I don’t know… I guess a part of me was concerned about upsetting his father, that’s true.”

“You were diligent at building a positive reputation for yourself at that firm, Louis. Your eyes were on the future, but when Tom wronged you, you became _afraid_ that if you stood up for yourself you might make Richard Bakker – Tom’s father – angry, or worse, cause him embarrassment and if that were to happen, he might never hire you.”

“I… I don’t know.”

“But it goes much deeper than simply worrying about ruining a job prospect, Louis,” Ileana says, her voice sure.

“Much deeper? I don’t understand what you mean,” Louis replies, confused.

“During your life on Earth, you had a long pattern of failing to stand up for yourself in times of crises.” Louis’ mouth falls open and his eyes go wide in surprise, but Ileana ignores his apparent shock and continues speaking. “Certainly, you had no problem letting your opinions be known on small matters; you had _and still have_ a rapier wit, and as you yourself said during our first session, you aren’t always able to ‘bite your tongue’. But when it comes to matters of real consequence, Louis, you have a history of remaining silent. We saw it during these proceedings when you allowed your stepfather to belittle you at the dinner table, and I have several other examples that I can bring up that prove you were never overly keen on defending yourself when others did you wrong.”

“I object!” Marcus states loudly. He stands from the advocate’s table and approaches the judges’ bench. “The delegate cannot make claims about events that are not formerly reviewed during these proceedings. If she is going to argue that she has other examples of Louis failing to defend himself, then she needs to show specific clips that substantiate her argument or they cannot be brought up during the course of this Review. She’s breaking Rule 22B of the _Review Constitution_.”

Louis feels completely panicked. He certainly doesn’t want Ileana showing clips of the many other blunders he made during his lifetime and he’s afraid that Marcus’ words just might prompt her to do so.

“Ms. Bachchan, do you intend on showing clips of these examples you just mentioned?” the Chief Justice asks. Ileana looks back and forth between Louis and Marcus, her expression unreadable.

“No, your honor,” she finally replies.

“Very well then,” the Chief Justice declares. “Objection sustained,”

Louis lets out a small breath of relief, but then Ileana returns to her line of rapid-fire questioning and he’s hardly able to acknowledge one comment or question before she throws another one at him.

“Louis, isn’t the truth of the matter that you were simply too afraid to confront Tom? You were confident and assured when it came to presenting your campaign, but when it came to actually defending your work and claiming it as your own, you let your fear get the best of you and you remained silent. Fear dictated how you acted on that day, Louis. Fear prevented you from standing up for yourself and that very fear is the reason it would better serve the universe if you were returned to Earth to live again. I’m sorry to say this, Louis, but you are simply not ready to move forward to the next realm.”

Louis feels like he’s taking a series of punches with each comment Ileana makes. But it’s her final statement that hurts the worst. _She doesn’t think I’m worthy of moving forward_ , he thinks to himself and although he’s known as much all along and he knows that Ileana’s sole job is to send him back to Earth, to actually _hear_ her say those words to him with such conviction is completely devastating.

 _I’m so fucked_.

“I honestly don’t know why I didn’t speak up,” Louis answers, his voice quiet and shaky. “I just couldn’t believe that Tom took credit for my work… Still can’t, really. Believe me, I thought about that afternoon countless times during my lifetime and in my mind the scene always played differently. I’ve come up with a thousand different scenarios of how I could have tactfully stood up for myself without creating a scene, but in the moment… I just froze.”

“But mental scenarios you create after the fact don’t count, Louis. What matters is how you reacted in the moment, and in that moment, when it mattered most, you were too afraid to fight for yourself.”

“I _wasn’t_ too afraid to fight for myself,” Louis replies, his voice pleading. He looks down at his lap, dejectedly.

“There was an award your firm gave out every election cycle, I believe it was referred to as the ‘Star Intern’ award,” Ileana says, looking to Louis for confirmation. He nods his head. “You won the award during your summer internship cycle and you were a positive shoe-in for the award fall cycle. Did you win the Star Intern award for the fall term, Louis?”

“No,” he answers. He’s completely floundering. Sitting in the Screening Chair and defending his life, Louis feels as embarrassed and defeated as he did when he allowed another man to take credit for his own hard work nearly a decade earlier. He takes another deep breath, but somehow, on this day, the breathing exercises that so far have served him well don’t seem to be enough. He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes and then suddenly, a thought occurs to him and Louis sits up straight in his chair and looks at Ileana directly, a tiny shred of his confidence returning. “But I was okay with not winning that award for a second time. My friend Sarah won and she deserved it and I was very happy for her.” Ileana offers Louis a rueful smile.

“That’s very nice, Louis. But do you think Sarah would have still won the award had you stood up for yourself and declared your true authorship over that campaign slogan and copy, or would that award have gone to you?”

“Objection!” Marcus exclaims. “The delegate is asking the Intake to speculate on something he has no way of knowing. She’s overstepping her bounds yet again and she’s positively badgering my client.”

“I agree,” the Chief Justice replies. She looks to Louis. “Mr. Tomlinson, you may disregard the last question. Ms. Bachchan, you may continue, but I strongly caution you to follow the guidelines of the _Review Constitution_.”

“Yes, your honor,” Ileana answers. “I think I’ve made my point. I have nothing further.”

Marcus stands from the advocate’s table as Ileana returns to her own. He shakes his head, letting out a dramatic sigh as if he had just witnessed the most preposterous thing to ever happen.

“That was spectacular,” he says, tilting his head toward Ileana. “What the delegate just did was to make a mockery of a very normal human reaction and she did so with a finesse and aplomb rarely seen in this Review Room. When Tom Bakker stole credit for Louis’ idea, Louis was utterly shocked and unable to immediately react. The delegate would have you believe that his shock equated to cowardice, and she was very convincing in her argument.” He walks toward the judges’ bench and then looks at each justice in the eyes before continuing. “But that argument couldn’t be further from the truth. Ms. Bachchan claimed my client didn’t stand up for himself because he was too afraid to do so, but that is simply not the case. I’m going to share another clip with you, also taken on 21.12.6, which will prove that my client didn’t act in fear when he generously _allowed_ another person to take credit for his work. He was in fact acting out of compassion.”

As the lights dim in the Review Room and Louis’ chair spins to face the viewing screen, Louis tries to figure out how Marcus is going to prove his point, but he trusts him, so he just goes with it, even though he has no idea what Marcus is talking about. But as the screen comes to life and the image of Louis tentatively knocking on the door of his boss, Richard Bakker’s office is displayed. It all comes flooding back to him.

 _Marcus is right; I was acting out of compassion_ , he thinks to himself, and he feels a rush of relief.

“Come in!” Mr. Bakker can be heard saying from behind the door. Louis opens it slowly and as he enters, his boss’ face bursts into a wide grin.

“Tomlinson, my boy! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I wanted to speak with you privately about the Highlander campaign, sir,” Louis answers, his voice a bit quiet, but nonetheless sure.

“Ah, yes. Your group put forth an absolutely brilliant campaign: by far the best of the bunch.” He leans forward and emphasizes, “I know my Tommy can get a bit overzealous at times, but please be aware that I know that _all_ of you contributed equally on the project.”

“Yes… Well, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, sir.”

As Louis watches his younger self, he feels the same nervous anticipation he felt in that moment. He didn’t want to tell Mr. Bakker that Tom had lied to everyone in that conference room when he claimed Louis’ work as his own, but he knew he had to do it, not because he needed the accolades, but rather, because what Tom did was wrong and couldn’t go unchecked simply because he was the boss’s son. Louis opens his mouth to speak, but then Mr. Bakker continues.

“Can I be honest with you about something, Louis?” he asks. Louis’ raises his eyebrows slightly in surprise, but quickly neutralizes his expression.

“Of course, sir.”

“And I can trust you to be… discreet?” Mr. Bakker asks, his tone serious.

“Absolutely,” Louis answers. Mr. Bakker studies Louis for a moment and then slowly, his mouth turns up into a happy smile.

“Today was one of the best days of my life, Louis.” This time, when Louis raises his eyebrows in surprise, they stay put.

“It was, sir?” Louis asks.

“Absolutely,” Mr. Bakker replies soundly, “and I’ll tell you why.” Louis nods his head but he doesn’t speak.

“Tommy always was a handful; he got into trouble quite often as a child and honestly, he’s had his fair share of trouble as an adult, too.”

“I see,” Louis answers. But the Louis watching this interaction onscreen remembers that his younger self didn’t see at all. He was completely confused as to what point Mr. Bakker was trying to make and he just wanted to tactfully tell him that his son was a massive liar and get it over with.

“Tommy’s mum and I have been really worried about him as of late. Up until this internship started, he was running with a bad crowd, skipping his classes at uni, that sort of thing. We were actually nearing the end of our rope because his recent behavior has been… Well, it hasn’t been the best.” Mr. Bakker shakes his head and sighs heavily and he looks at Louis and his expression is so serious and intense that Louis knows what he is saying is deeply personal and something he wouldn’t normally share. For some reason, he trusts Louis, and Louis is honored by that trust.

“I know that Tommy didn’t earn his internship the way _you_ did, Louis,” Mr. Bakker continues. “You’re so gifted and such a hard worker and that’s why you were asked to stay on for a second internship cycle. But Tommy… Well, if I’m being perfectly honest, my partners agreed to give him one of the fifteen internship spots because they knew my wife and I were desperate to get him on the straight and narrow.” Louis is silent, but he nods his head in understanding.

As he watches himself onscreen, Louis’ emotions mirror those of his younger self and his anger begins to melt away and is replaced with empathy. The fact that Mr. Bakker was speaking to him so honestly meant a great deal to Louis and it was clear by his expression and tone that Mr. Bakker and his wife had experienced quite a rocky road with their rebellious son. He continues speaking.

“My wife and I… We hoped this internship would give Tommy some sort of direction.” He lets out a heavy sigh and the smile on his face almost looks relieved. “And by some sort of miracle, Louis, it actually did.”

“Oh,” Louis answers quietly. “That’s wonderful, sir.”

From his seat in the Screening Chair, Louis remembers that it was at that very moment that he decided he couldn’t tell Mr. Bakker the truth about his son. He knew the truth would only hurt him.

“To watch Tommy get up and come to work and put effort into bettering himself has provided my wife and I immeasurable relief, Louis. We actually thought we might lose him all together,” he adds softly. “But his internship with this firm has given him a sense of purpose and he really seems to have turned it all around and is dedicated to sorting himself out. We’re simply thrilled.” Mr. Bakker leans over and he places his hand on Louis’ shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. “And now… To know that Tommy worked with the two best interns in the office to create something so smart and marketable, well, I could practically burst with pride.”

Louis smiles at the praise.

“That’s very kind of you to say, sir,” Louis replies sincerely.

“I know that Tommy was probably exaggerating his role in creating the copy and slogan for your group’s campaign. That slogan actually had _your_ voice imprinted on it, Louis, and I’m sure you mentored him a great deal during the conception and development of it all.”

“Well, I...” Louis starts, but he doesn’t finish his thought.

“You allowed Tommy to take the spotlight and you did so graciously.” Mr. Bakker clears his throat. “I’m very grateful to you, Louis,” he says, and extends his hand, which Louis takes in his own and shakes.

Watching the clip onscreen, Louis vividly recalls feeling utterly sorry for Richard Bakker and completely unwilling to burst his bubble by telling him the truth about his son. Mr. Bakker was beaming with pride at the fact that his lazy, troublesome child had actually managed to accomplish something good and Louis for one was not going to take that pride from him. While fear may have played a part in Louis not speaking up during the original Highlander presentation, fear was certainly _not_ a factor in Louis staying quiet when he stood in Mr. Bakker’s office and discussed the campaign with him. Marcus was right; the reason Louis didn’t tell his boss that Tom stole credit from Louis was because it was the compassionate thing to do.

Mr. Bakker slaps Louis on the back then, exclaiming, “Dear boy! You came in here to speak to me about the campaign and I’ve done all the talking. What was it you wanted to say to me?” Louis smiles softly in resignation.

“I just wanted to tell you that I thought the Highlander campaign was an excellent project assignment and that I’ve very much enjoyed my time interning here at the agency,” Louis answers.

“Well, Louis,” Mr. Bakker says conspiratorially, “I’m not supposed to mention this to you without first finalizing it with my colleagues, but I can assure you, we’re all on the same page and when your final semester at university is complete, we’d like to offer you a full-time job as junior copywriter at our agency.” Louis’ face breaks into a wide grin. The screen fades to black.

As the lights come up in the Review Room and Louis’ chair turns to face the justices, Marcus approaches.

“Louis, what was the reason you went to Mr. Bakker’s office during the clip we just viewed?” Marcus asks.

“I went to tell him that his son, Tom, stole credit for my work on the Highlander campaign. I went to see him to set things right.”

“But, you didn’t tell him the truth about his son, Louis. Why was that?”

“Because Mr. Bakker was a good man and I didn’t want to hurt him.”

“You didn’t want to hurt him?” Marcus repeats.

“No… He was so proud of his son and I didn’t want to take that away from him, especially after he was so honest with me about all that he and his wife had been through with Tom.”

“I see. But just to reiterate; what you’re telling me and this Review panel is that your original intent when you went into your boss’s office that afternoon was to clear the air and to tell him that Tom took credit for your work?”

“It was,” Louis answers, his voice strong and assured. “But in the end, I decided that it wasn’t worth it. I’d rather Tom have _my_ moment of glory for a job well done, than claim that honor from him and ultimately, take that moment of pride from his father.”

Marcus turns to the justices. “What we just witnessed was my client, Louis Tomlinson, taking the high road. He sacrificed the accolades that he justly earned through tireless work and dedication and offered them to one who was unworthy of such an honor, and he did so because he cared for his fellow man. He did so because he wanted a father whose son provided him years of heartache and worry to enjoy a simple moment of celebration and pride in his child.”

Marcus tilts his head toward Ileana and then raises his voice dramatically. “The delegate would have you believe that Louis Tomlinson was some kind of coward, simply because he did not stand up for himself immediately after Tom took credit for Louis’ idea. But making such an assessment about Louis’ actions equates a rush to judgment and the delegate is sadly not looking at the entire picture. Louis was thoughtful and he took his time assessing how to handle the situation and when he made the very mature decision that he should discuss the matter _privately_ with his boss, he went straight to his boss’s office to do just that. It was only then that Louis realized how much his son’s success meant to Richard Bakker, and he selflessly decided to forego the praise that was due him so that his boss could enjoy that one special moment as a father.”

Louis sits straighter in his chair. Everything Marcus just said is true; the only reason Louis didn’t tell Mr. Bakker about Tom’s chicanery was because he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting his boss in such a manner. It simply didn’t seem worth it to him. But the way that Marcus presented Louis’ position to the justices made Louis sound positively… _heroic_. Louis’ not sure what he did to deserve Marcus as his advocate, but he’s incredibly grateful Marcus is on his side.

“Louis,” Marcus says, and he stands facing Ileana and looks at her for a moment before turning his attention to the justices. “I just have one more thing I’d like to bring up. During your meeting with Richard Bakker, he offered you a job with his agency to start when you graduated from university.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Louis answers.

“You worked very hard during your internship and securing a job offer from the firm was the primary reason you pursued the internship in the first place, isn’t that correct?”

“It is,” Louis responds.

“After you graduated university, did you take the job with Bradley, Bakker and Whitfield, Louis?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you accept the job offer, Louis?

Louis puffs out his cheeks and blows out a breath of air, considering. “I guess I realized that as much as I liked the people at the firm, I wanted a fresh start. What happened with Tom left a bad taste in my mouth and I realized there were other opportunities elsewhere. Eventually, I landed a job with The Pemberton Group and I had a very happy and successful career with them.”

“You were offered an amazing opportunity with Bradley, Bakker and Whitfield and yet you turned it down? That seems like quite a risk. In fact, I would argue that turning down such an opportunity was, in fact, a very brave decision on your part, Louis.”

“I’m not sure about that, but I’m glad that I turned their offer down. The Pemberton Group was a better fit for me and in addition to having a successful career, I made some wonderful friends there.” Marcus nods his head and smiles. He turns back toward the justices.

“I have nothing further, your honors.”

Louis feels awash in relief. The morning was a bit rocky, but now the session is almost over and he only has to get through Marcus and Ileana’s final arguments and he can go and have lunch with Harry and forget about his Review for a couple of hours.

“Ms. Bachchan, do you have any final questions for the Intake,” the Chief Justice asks?

“Actually, your honor, I have something else I’d like to present,” Ileana says, interrupting Louis’ happy thoughts and causing his stomach to drop. Marcus looks at her in surprise and then turns to the justices and speaks.

“Your honors, Ms. Bachchan didn’t inform the advocate’s office she would be showing a second clip for today’s screening. Furthermore, I wasn’t given the opportunity to screen the clip in question prior to this session. She’s once again breaking the rules of these proceedings.”

Ileana rolls her eyes and raises her voice dismissively as she counters Marcus’ argument.

“Your honors, Mr. Diamond is very well aware that a delegate _or_ an advocate may screen a clip without prior disclosing said clip to opposing counsel if that clip was recorded on the same day as clips previously presented during a particular session.” She looks at Marcus pointedly. “That’s codicil 19B4C of the _Review Constitution_ , but there are other exceptions for showing a clip without opposing counsel’s prior consent. I know you know that, Marcus.” Marcus narrows his eyes, agitation evident on his face.

“Ms. Bachchan is right, Mr. Diamond,” the Chief Justice answers, looking at Marcus. She then turns her attention to Ileana. “Ms. Bachchan, you may continue, but this session is due to end in thirty-six minutes. I’m sure you don’t need reminded that each session is a self-contained unit and must be completed within the designated time allotted.”

“I understand, your honor,” Ileana answers and then turns her attention to Louis. “This won’t take long.” She eyes Louis carefully. “Mr. Tomlinson, why did you go see your boss, Richard Bakker, on the afternoon of 21.12.6?” Louis looks at her completely dumbfounded.

 _We just went over this_ , he thinks to himself, annoyed. “I went to see him to tell him that Tom had taken credit for my work,” he answers calmly. “I… Um… I thought we went over all of this already?” he adds, trying to make it sound like a joke and failing miserably.

“We did, but during his arguments, your advocate made quite a point that I was missing the big picture when it came to your actions on the day your coworker claimed your work as his own. I’m afraid that Mr. Diamond is guilty of the same shortsightedness.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Louis says, and he has absolutely no idea what’s going on, but he knows that he doesn’t like where this is headed.

“Well, Louis, your advocate has painted you as quite the hero for mustering up the courage to tell your boss about his son’s misdeeds, even though, ultimately you decided not to share the truth about what Tom had done.” Louis doesn’t respond, instead he just stares at Ileana, completely confused.

“I have to admit, Louis, your actions on that day do seem quite honorable and I would concede they in fact were, had you went to see your boss of your own volition.”

“But… I did go and see him on my own. Nobody forced me – ” Louis cuts himself off mid-sentence. _Fucking hell_ , he thinks as he remembers an interaction that took place just prior to Louis tentatively knocking on Richard Bakker’s office door. _How could I forget?_

Just then, the lights go down in the Review Room and Louis’ chair turns to face the viewing screen. Louis closes his eyes momentarily, because he doesn’t even want to look.

There, on the screen before him, Louis watches as his boss and mentor, Juliet Whitfield absolutely begs Louis to tell Richard Bakker that Tom had taken credit for his idea.

“But I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Louis responds and Juliet lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Louis, you can’t let people walk all over you, especially not that punk Tom Bakker. Everyone here knows he’s absolutely good for nothing; we all just love his father so much that we overlook it. But what he did to you this morning, well that simply cannot go unchecked.” Louis lowers his head and doesn’t answer; he just fiddles with the clasps that secure his braces to his trousers.

“Louis!” Juliet practically shouts, and Louis looks up at her, giving her his full attention. “Why are you so reluctant to go talk to Richard?”

“I’m afraid, alright?” Louis snaps, then he immediately recoils, apologizing to Juliet for raising his voice. The Louis sitting in the Screening Chair watching this interaction take place onscreen sinks low in his seat and scrubs his hands over his face.

“But why are you afraid?” she implores.

“It’s just… It’s just that I’ve dedicated so much to this internship and I really want to earn a position with this firm. It could mean a lot for my family and me. If the firm hires me I can help my mum financially. I can make her life easier and I want to do that for her. If I march into Richard Bakker’s office and accuse his son of taking credit for my work, he might not believe me. It could ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for, Juliet. I could be blacklisted in this industry.”

“Louis, Richard Bakker would never blacklist you and besides, you’re not _accusing_ his son of anything, you’re simply stating the facts. I know you care about your family and want to help them financially, but you are at the very start of your career and you simply cannot begin it by allowing others to take advantage of your kind nature. Trust me, doing so will set a precedent and you’ll allow it to happen time and again.”

Louis sighs heavily and Juliet continues, her voice softer. “Listen, Louis, I know you’re afraid, but if you don’t tell Richard that Tom claimed your work as his own, I’m going straight into his office to do it myself, and trust me, Louis, it will be a lot more professional for you to stand up for yourself than for me to fight your battles for you.” The screen fades to black and Louis once again finds himself facing the justices.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck_.

Ileana turns to Louis and looks at him pointedly. “You were not being brave when you went to see Richard Bakker on that afternoon, Louis. You weren’t even standing up for yourself. The _only_ reason you went to see your boss was because your other boss, Juliet Whitfield, demanded that you do so with the threat that if you didn’t, she would.”

“I honestly forgot that Juliet encouraged me to go see him,” Louis answers, his voice barely above a whisper.

“ _Encouraged_ you to go see him, Louis?” Ileana scoffs. “She _made_ you go see him. You never would have gone on your own.”

“Objection!” Marcus declares. “The delegate is offering pure speculation; there is absolutely no way of knowing whether Louis would or would not have gone to see Richard Bakker without Juliet’s prompting. That’s something we’ll never know.”

“Sustained,” Chief Justice Wen answers.

Ileana crosses her arms and stands in front of Louis, looking back and forth between him and the justices and when she again speaks, Louis suddenly understands why she is known as “The Dragon Lady”.

“Well, I’ll tell you something we _do_ know,” she says. “We know that Louis Tomlinson was afraid to talk to his boss about Tom Bakker taking credit for his work. We know that as a one-hundred percent true fact because we heard those words straight from Louis’ own mouth.” Ileana outstretches her arms and adds dramatically, “What we witnessed today was one, small event in the course of Louis Tomlinson’s life, but it’s emblematic of an _entire lifetime_ lived in fear.”

Louis feels sick to his stomach. His body is hot all over and his heart is racing and his breathing is heavy. He thinks he might be on the verge of a panic attack; he’s dizzy and his chest hurts. This is by far the most difficult session he’s endured during the course of his Review. He would have never thought that such a small event in his life would have such a huge impact on how that life would be judged when he was dead. This session is even worse than the traumatic session where he had to relive the nightmare that followed his first kiss, because even then he managed to emerge from the session with some semblance of dignity. He knows he looked absolutely pathetic sitting in Juliet’s office: like he was a coward who cared more about his career than he did his own integrity.

 _I’m going to get sent back to Earth over something that happened when I was a fucking intern_ , he thinks to himself. He wants to cry and is afraid that if he does it will only make him look weaker.

 _Fuck_.

“I’ve nothing further,” Ileana says and when she turns to take her seat at the delegate’s table, she catches Louis’ eyes. Louis forces himself to return her stare. He’s already been humiliated enough for one day, he’s not going to cower in the face of one who has already taken such pride in exposing his fear. But when their eyes lock on one another, Ileana doesn’t appear to be gloating or proud; in fact, she actually looks a bit sad and maybe even a touch remorseful. Louis takes a deep breath. He just wants this session to be over. He needs to be with Harry because he’s quite certain that Harry’s strong arms are the only things that can offer him comfort right now.

It’s all a blur as the Chief Justice calls Marcus to offer his rebuttal, and Louis is so lost in thought and desperate for the morning session to end that he misses most of what Marcus says in his defense, instead only hearing bits and pieces of how the delegate grossly overstated Louis’ fear at the time Tom stole credit for his work and how Louis lived his life as a compassionate and brave man who would rather make another person happy than bask in the accolades of his own hard-earned accomplishments. Louis’ knows that Marcus is giving it his all as he counters Ileana’s arguments one by one, but Louis can’t even be bothered to listen because he feels like he’s suffocating and he just wants out of that room.

Finally, the morning session officially ends, and after the justices and Ileana leave the Review Room, Marcus places his hand on Louis’ shoulder. “I know this morning was very difficult for you, Louis.”

“I don’t understand why that one little episode was such a big deal,” Louis answers, his voice exasperated. “She showed one time I didn’t stand up for myself and you’d think I’d committed murder by the way Ileana was talking.”

“Listen to me, Louis,” Marcus says and he holds Louis by both shoulders now so that they are looking into each other’s eyes. “This entire process is about establishing patterns: Ileana is trying to establish a pattern that fear dictated your actions throughout the course of your life, and I’m trying to establish the pattern that your actions were more often dictated by compassion and kindness than any other factor. Everyone endures fear when they’re on Earth, Louis, but if I thought your life was ruled by it, I never would have taken your case. I believe in you, but I saw you starting to lose your confidence under her questioning this morning and we cannot have that if you’re to pass this Review. We’ve got a two-hour break before the afternoon session. Go have lunch with your boy and clear your head. I need you to be at the top of your game and confident when you come back. Can you do that for me?”

“I can try, Marcus. It’s just that… Well, after all that she said about me…” Louis swallows thickly. “It’s hard not to feel bad about myself.”

“Don’t!” Marcus states emphatically, squeezing Louis’ shoulders. “Do not allow what she said to undermine you. You’re a good man, Louis. She’s doing her job and now, more than ever, I need you to do yours. Go see your boy, Louis. Take a breather from all of this and come back ready to fight.”

“Okay,” Louis answers quietly. Marcus holds out his fist for Louis to bump and Louis forces himself to return the gesture. He turns to leave the Review Room but stops in his tracks when Marcus calls out to him.

“Louis!” Marcus says, his voice loud and strong. Louis turns to look at him. “We can do this.”

Louis takes a deep breath and nods in agreement. “We can do this,” he repeats, even though he’s not so sure.

Louis turns and leaves the Review Room and when he steps outside the door he finds Harry already standing in the hall waiting for him. Louis feels relief wash over him at the sight of Harry’s pale skin, green eyes, and chestnut curls. Harry grins in excitement when their eyes meet, but as soon as he notes the troubled look on Louis’ face, his smile falters, and his expression turns serious. He holds out his arms and Louis walks into them and Harry pulls Louis into his own body, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight. He doesn’t say a word.

The two stand there in silence: the only sounds that Louis registers are soft breaths that are inhaled and exhaled between them, the ambient noise of voices, footsteps, and the lift doors opening and closing fading into the background until they are absolutely nothing. Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder, his cheek nuzzled against his collar and Harry’s arms wrap behind Louis’ back, one large hand spanning the curve of Louis’ spine, the other gently cradling his hip. Their bodies are flush, their pelvises pressed against each other and their groins meeting. Louis thinks that at any other time he would probably be grinding up against Harry, but in this moment, all he wants is to be still.

Harry lets him be still.

Louis closes his eyes and allows himself to be encompassed in Harry’s warmth. Harry doesn’t rub Louis’ back, he doesn’t sway their bodies from side to side, and he certainly doesn’t try to kiss Louis. He just holds him tight and it’s everything that Louis wants and everything he needs in this moment.

Louis stands wrapped in Harry’s arms and as the minutes pass he breathes in Harry’s scent and wills himself to exorcise the shame he feels as a result of his morning Review session. He should have stood up for himself against Tom Bakker on that day in the conference room of Bradley, Bakker and Whitfield all those years ago, just as he should have stood up for himself against Ileana Bachchan this very morning. He’ll do better this afternoon. He has to and he will. Louis squeezes his eyes tight and tries to flush all of the negative thoughts running through his brain out of his head.

He doesn’t want to think of anything besides how safe he feels cocooned in Harry’s strong arms. His body starts to relax and as it does, Harry holds him tighter, supporting him fully. Harry holds Louis without any sort of expectation; it’s a completely selfless act of unconditional love. Louis has never felt so complete.

Finally, after nearly ten minutes have passed, Louis is ready to relax his hold on Harry. He carefully pulls back and looks up at Harry and Harry leans his forehead against’ Louis’ own, nuzzling their noses together. He studies Louis carefully for a moment before quietly asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Louis shakes his head and whispers. “Not right now, love. But maybe later, okay?” Harry pulls him back in, squeezing him tightly as he presses kisses to Louis’ forehead and cheeks.

“Shall we go to lunch?” Harry asks, dropping the subject completely. Louis doesn’t know how he ever got so lucky.

“Yeah, love. I’d like that a lot.”

They walk toward the lift and Louis wills himself to let go of his morning session and be in the moment with the man by his side. As they wait for the car’s arrival, Louis turns to Harry. “Do you still want to snog on our bench?” he asks. Harry’s face splits into a wide grin and when his dimple pops on his cheek, Louis is unable to resist dipping his thumb into the soft indentation.

“Of course, I want to snog on our bench, Louis. Hell, we can skip the food altogether.” Louis barks a laugh and as he does, he begins to feel lighter. He gives himself the gift of being consciously present with Harry and doesn’t allow himself to be bogged down with emotions caused by an ugly incident that happened nearly a decade earlier.

“Let’s go then, Haz.”

The two step onto the lift and immediately both look at the camera mounted in the upper corner and wave.

“Hello, Ed!” Louis calls out, then he points his index finger at Harry who tries to wink at the camera but somehow manages to close both eyes, causing Louis to chuckle. “Are you seriously unable to properly wink, Harold?” he teases. Harry bites his lip and shakes his head.

“Winking was never one of my best skills,” he answers, trying again and blinking goofily at the camera.

Louis can’t help himself and he pulls Harry in and kisses him soundly on the lips before quickly letting go and waving to the camera. “Sorry, Ed!” he laughs. He doesn’t even know if Ed is monitoring the lift they are riding in at the moment, but he enjoys talking to the camera, nonetheless “I can’t help myself. He’s too ridiculous not to kiss!” Harry grabs Louis from behind, pulling his body against his own.

“Who are you calling ridiculous, Louis?” he laughs and then begins to tickle Louis under his arms, causing Louis to squirm and break into hysterical giggles.

“You’re just want I needed,” Louis whispers, shaking his head. Harry responds by grinning and then blowing a sloppy raspberry on the side of Louis’ neck just as the lift doors open and a serious-looking man in a business suit steps into the car. Louis cannot control his laughter even as the lift descends and more and more people join them on their way to the ground floor. He and Harry are completely lost in their own little world.

By the time they reach the lobby, Louis is feeling significantly better, having officially let go of the anxiety and anger caused by his morning Review session. Just being with Harry provides all the comfort he needs.

The two head to the park, stopping at three different food trucks along the way and ordering up a ridiculous and diverse feast of sushi, kebabs, and deep fried vegetables. They sit at a picnic table to eat and after they’ve stuffed themselves silly and washed it all down with icy raspberry soda water, they head to their tucked-away bench in front of the reflecting pool, lazily swinging their joined hands as they make their way along the winding walkway. As they take their seat, Harry pulls Louis’ body against his own and he begins to speak.

“Um. So we have our ‘special date’ planned for this evening,” Harry says, leaning in and grazing the tips of his fingers over the back of Louis’ neck. Louis shivers at his touch. “It’s all that I can think about, really and I have something that I want to do for you, so you’re still okay with coming over to mine, yeah?”

“Of course,” Louis answers. He bites his lip and the corners of his mouth turn up in a playful smile. “What are you going to do for me, Harry? You know, I wouldn’t be opposed to you going out and getting yourself one of those obscene footie kits. I think I would like that very much, actually.” Harry blushes.

“Nobody will ever look better than you do in that kit, Louis. I wouldn’t dare try.” He closes his eyes for a moment, his voice a bit huskier when he speaks. “Jesus Christ, when I opened my eyes and saw you in that kit last night I almost came on the spot… and the taste of your skin on my tongue… so sweet and salty.” He leans in and gently nips at Louis’ bottom lip. “The butterscotch tasted so good on you, Lou.”

“Do not make me hard in a public park, Hazza. That’s not very fair,” Louis answers. He presses his lips against Harry’s then, licking along the seam of Harry’s mouth and darting his tongue inside. Harry groans into the kiss and wraps his large hands around the base of Louis’ head, cradling his neck and jaw as he kisses him slow and deep.

“Bloody hell,” Harry laughs, pulling away and wiping the back of his hand over a bead of saliva on his bottom lip. “I intended on telling you something and got carried away before I even got started.” He leans in to kiss Louis again, but Louis pulls back.

“What did you want to tell me, love?” Louis asks.

“Oh! Right! Um. I have an appointment with Sam tonight at 7 PM. Apparently she always schedules a final meeting with her Intakes on the eve of their Verdict Day to go over last minute details about their final Review session and that sort of thing. But we can still meet after. I thought maybe you could come to mine around 8:30 or so? It’s a little later than I’d originally planned, but we’ll still have all night together.” Harry leans in then to go for another kiss, but Louis doesn’t reciprocate.

“Oh, okay, Haz,” Louis answers, his voice distracted and stiff. It’s almost funny how quickly the term “Review” can kill his mood; it’s the ultimate cock-blocker, really.

“Louis, please don’t go there,” Harry whispers, obviously keenly aware what Louis is thinking. He slides his hand behind Louis’ waist and pulls him in close, kissing along his neck. Louis closes his eyes at the sensation and tilts his head back and gives in to the warm, wet pressure of Harry’s lips on his sensitive skin.

“Sorry, love,” Louis answers, pushing the thought of his and Harry’s Reviews out of his mind completely. “8:30 will be great. I’ve been thinking about tonight myself. It’s going to be so –” Harry slides his index finger beneath the collar of Louis’ tupa and pulls it to the side, biting down on the tender dip of Louis’ collarbone. “Fucking hell, that’s good,” Louis whimpers and he scrunches his shoulders, the sensation teetering precariously between pleasure and pain. Harry pulls away and looks at Louis, grinning proudly at his own skills of distraction.

“Maybe you can play some footie while I have my meeting, Lou.” He bites his lips and raises his eyebrows suggestively. “Get all sweaty and worked up… Maybe even bring home another footie kit…”

“You are insatiable, aren’t you, Harry?”

“Yes. You drive me quite wild, Louis Tomlinson, and I’m not sorry about it in the least.”

Louis threads his fingers through Harry’s hair, twisting a ringlet around his index finger and then letting go, the springy coil bouncing before falling loosely in front of Harry’s ear.

“Shit, you’re so gorgeous, Haz,” Louis mutters and Harry’s cheeks flush pink. Louis can’t imagine ever feeling anything but absolute happiness when he’s with him.

Suddenly, Louis thinks about his conversation that morning with Marcus and decides to share it with Harry.

“This morning Marcus and I were talking and he told me about an argument he was having with his wife and I couldn’t believe it, Harry. They’re soul mates and they were fighting over breakfast food, although, to be fair, Marcus said that breakfast food wasn’t the real issue. He seemed so out of sorts and upset about it.” Louis sighs heavily. “I can’t imagine ever being angry with you about anything, much less breakfast.”

“I can’t imagine being angry with you either.” Harry tilts his head and huffs a quiet little laugh. “But we might argue someday, Louis; we are human, after all.” He shrugs his shoulders sheepishly. “Well, post-human, I suppose.” Louis can’t help himself and he presses a series of quick kisses to Harry’s lips.

“I know it’s probably unrealistic, but I don’t ever want to argue with you, Harry. I think it would kill me if you were ever mad at me.” Louis shakes his head then, because he knows what’s coming before Harry even speaks the words.

“You do know you’re already dead, right, Louis?”

“Very funny, darling,” Louis grins.

“Well, I’m sure Marcus and his wife will work things out. From what you’ve told me, they’re very happy together.”

“They really are. Marcus told me today they’ve been together for nearly three-hundred-years! Can you believe that, Harry?”

“They sound incredibly lucky,” Harry replies. He leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of Louis’ nose. “We’re going to be that lucky too.” Louis smiles.

“Even if we occasionally quarrel?” he teases.

“Especially if we quarrel,” Harry answers, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Then we’ll get to enjoy all the fun of making up.” Louis cups his fingers over Harry’s jaw and pulls him in for a long, languid kiss, their lips smacking and their tongues gliding together in a deliciously slow rhythm.

“I’ll let you win every argument,” Louis says when they pull apart. He slides his index finger along Harry’s belt: a gesture that’s increasingly becoming one of his favorites, not the least of all because he can feel the strong muscles of Harry’s abdomen clench at his touch.

“That’s probably a good position to take,” Harry laughs. “Whenever I get angry or upset I always need to –”

“Louis! Harry! What a wonderful surprise!” A female voice interrupts Harry midsentence. Louis looks up and sees a familiar redhead walking past the rose bushes and into the little alcove by the reflecting pool. She’s wearing pale green medical scrubs, her hair piled high on her head in a loose bun. Louis recognizes her immediately as Beatrice, his Intake nurse. Louis and Harry both stand to greet her.

“Hello, love,” Louis says, pulling Beatrice into a friendly hug, Harry following suit. “Are you on break?”

“Yeah,” Beatrice answers. “I like to take a long lunch. We had quite a hectic morning at the Intake Center; midweek is a surprisingly busy time in my line of work.” She looks back and forth between Louis and Harry and smiles knowingly. “Still going strong, I see. I knew the two of you were soul mates the moment I first laid eyes on the two of you together… Simply remarkable.”

Louis takes Harry’s hand in his own, tangling their fingers together and giving them a gentle squeeze. “We’re really happy,” he answers and Harry nods in agreement.

“Meeting Louis is the best thing that ever happened to me,” Harry says and as he speaks he stares at Louis like he’s the most sacred thing in the universe.

“I’m so happy for you both,” Beatrice replies. “And your Reviews? They’re going well?” Louis feels his body tense, but is immediately comforted by Harry, who lets go of Louis’ hand to wrap his arm around Louis’ waist, pulling him in close.

“We’re just looking forward to the Reviews being done with and getting on with our future,” Harry answers diplomatically.

“I see,” Beatrice replies, looking between them again. She stares at Harry for a brief moment but then settles in on Louis, squinting her eyes and taking him in fully. “Do you remember what I told you the other night, Louis?” she asks. “Do you remember the number I told you?”

Louis looks at Beatrice and at first he’s completely confused, but then he remembers how Beatrice had whispered in his ear about “sacred things” and then told him the telephone number to the Intake Center.

“Number eight on the dial,” he whispers, for some reason afraid to speak too loudly.

“That’s right,” Beatrice answers quietly. “Number eight. I think I should be getting on now, but you gentlemen enjoy the rest of your lunch break and good luck with your afternoon sessions.” Louis and Harry hug Beatrice goodbye and she’s on her way.

“She is the most mysterious woman I have ever met,” Harry comments.

“Yeah, she certainly is,” Louis agrees. “I think she’s quite wonderful, don’t you?”

“I do,” Harry answers

“I have the strangest feeling… Like, I’m going to be seeing her again… very soon,” Louis says, watching Beatrice disappear out of the alcove and across the stone path that leads out of the park.

“Well, actually, that’s not so strange, Lou; she lives and works here, after all,” Harry replies and as he speaks, he rubs his large hand over Louis’ back.

 _That’s not what I mean_ , Louis thinks to himself, but what he says to Harry is, “You’re probably right, love. We’ve run into her twice already.”

Harry pulls Louis back down onto the bench and they kiss the rest of their lunch break away, barely coming up for air. By the time the alarm on Harry’s watch sounds, both of their mouths are red and swollen and Louis has a brand new love bite on his collarbone to go with the collection of bruises left on his skin by Harry over the past few days.

“How come I always end up an absolute mess when I’m with you?” Louis asks as he removes the belt of his tupa so he can properly straighten his garment and adjust his semi-hard cock.

“Don’t know,” Harry replies as he runs his fingers through his hair doing his fluff, swoop, and tug routine. He straightens the skirt of his tupa and then makes a few adjustments of his own. “But it’s the best kind of mess, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Dirty boy,” Louis grins as he takes Harry’s hand and leads him out of the park and down the brick foot-pavement toward the Review Center. Once inside, they make their way across the crowded lobby to the bank of lifts and press the Up button for the set of lifts designated for the thirtieth through fiftieth floors. The lift doors open and they step inside and even though the lift is crowded with people, Harry grabs Louis by the waist and hugs him close.

“Tonight,” he whispers in Louis’ ear. Louis turns to him and their eyes lock. “Tonight,” Louis repeats and leans in for a kiss.

 


	15. Six Years Trying to Forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! - Homophobia and homophobic language in this chapter.

Louis and Harry stand between the doorways to their respective Review Rooms, having a few minutes to spend with one another before their afternoon sessions start. Being together in this spot has become a bit of a tradition for the two of them and as he runs his fingertips up and down the banding of Harry’s belt, Louis thinks to himself that when this whole process is over, he’s actually going to miss these intimate little moments in the hallway of the 46th floor of the Review Center, despite the stress of the Review that goes hand in hand with this quiet time. The comfort he takes wrapped in Harry’s warmth before he has to go in and face the mistakes he made during his life on Earth is like a calm before the storm and Louis treasures this time with him.

The snogging and sexy banter shared between the two of them during these moments doesn’t hurt either.

“So, I was thinking about tonight,” Harry says cradling his hands around the back of Louis’ neck. “I have something special planned, a bit of a surprise, actually, and since I have to meet with Sam at seven, I think maybe I should take care of it beforehand. Well, take care of most of it anyway. Some things I need to do right before you arrive… for safety reasons.”

“For safety reasons?” Louis laughs. “What have you got planned, Harold? Will there be a trampoline in your suite? Firewalkers, maybe?”

“Nothing quite that dramatic, Lou,” Harry says, nuzzling his nose against Louis’. “I just want everything to be perfect for us... I feel like I waited my whole lifetime for this moment. I _know_ that I waited my whole lifetime for you, Louis.”

“Same, Harry. Same,” Louis replies, nodding his head, too overwhelmed to elaborate beyond this simple sentiment because he never knew love like this existed and he wants tonight to be perfect, just as Harry does. “Tonight will be wonderful, love. I’m so happy we found each other.”

“We were meant to find each other, Louis. You’re my soul mate,” Harry answers confidently.

“And you’re mine. How did I get so lucky?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Harry answers. He bites his lip and smiles shyly. “I’ve thought about the first time I saw your face in those offices a thousand times now, Louis, and it always makes me so happy.”

“I saw you and I fell in love,” Louis grins. Harry leans in and presses a kiss to Louis’ lips in response.

“And you smiled because you knew,” they say together.

“We’re disgusting,” Louis laughs.

“I love that about us,” Harry replies. He tickles his fingers along the back of Louis’ neck, causing Louis to scrunch his shoulders. “Soul mates,” he says, biting back a grin. “We’re already halfway through the day, Lou. Then we have tonight,” he says, his breath warm on Louis’ chin as he moves in and playfully nips at the stubble along his jaw. “And tomorrow… Well, come tomorrow, our future begins.”

Louis looks at Harry in quiet amazement. Harry’s just so confident that their future is set in stone: that they will be moving forward together. Louis wants nothing more than to feel that type of confidence himself. He places his hands on Harry’s chest and spreads out his fingers on the space where Harry’s butterfly tattoo is hidden beneath his tupa. He can hardly believe that there are only two more sessions of their Reviews left.

“Tomorrow at this time, they’ll be deciding our fate,” Louis says quietly, and he glides his thumbs upwards, instinctively tracing the body of the butterfly, even though he can’t see it through Harry’s garment. Harry wraps his large hands over Louis’ own.

“I know you’re nervous, Louis. I don’t know what happened in your morning session, but I hate that you were so upset. I hate that I couldn’t be in that room with you, because I always want to be by your side.” Louis looks up to find Harry’s eyes searching his face, his expression earnest. “Just… Just promise me that you’ll try not to let what happens in that room bring you down. I know your sessions have been difficult, but I believe in you, Louis.” Harry pulls Louis’ hands up to his mouth and kisses the tops of his knuckles reverently. “I believe in us. We’re moving forward together.”

“We’re moving forward together,” Louis repeats and he can’t help but offer Harry a small smile.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Ha –” he says before Harry cuts him off with a kiss.

Louis slides his hands behind Harry’s neck and they give in to it fully: their mouths pressing together in repeated soft smacks, Harry’s pillowy lips moist and warm over Louis’ own. Louis is just about to deepen the kiss by sliding his tongue inside Harry’s mouth when he’s interrupted by a deep voice that resonates from just behind where Louis is standing.

“I swear, I never saw two people more utterly hopeless for each other than you two. Doesn’t it get exhausting? Kissing as much as the two of you do?”

Marcus.

Louis pulls away from Harry and grins at the way he ducks his head and blushes. He doesn’t take his eyes off him as he teasingly retorts, “Maybe if you stop arguing with your wife over breakfast foods, you can get back to some snogging of your own, Marcus.”

“Touché, Louis. Touché,” Marcus says with a laugh. “You two lovebirds say your ‘goodbyes’ and then you can meet me inside, Romeo.” Marcus squeezes Louis’ shoulder as he walks past the two of them and into the Review Room.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Harry says, pulling Louis in for a hug.

“That was nothing, darling. Should I remind you about our grinding session in the lift that Ed had to break up?”

“Touché, Louis. Touché,” Harry says with a laugh, repeating Marcus’ words.

“We should probably go,” Louis says reluctantly. “Our Reviews start in a few minutes.” Harry nods his head in agreement.

“I believe in you,” he says, kissing Louis goodbye.

“I love you,” Louis replies.

Harry leans in and whispers lowly in Louis’ ear, “You’ll have all of me tonight, Louis.” Louis feels a tingling warmth all over his body at Harry’s words.

“Tonight,” Louis repeats and then steals one more kiss.

The two head into their respective Review Rooms and Louis, unable to wipe the smile off his face from Harry’s words, takes his seat beside Marcus. Marcus does not miss the opportunity to tease him.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Lovesick. Did you have a nice time making out with your boyfriend in the hallway?”

“I did. He’s quite a skilled kisser, Marcus,” Louis retorts, completely unbothered. Marcus throws back his head and laughs.

“Well, a good kisser can make all the difference in a day, Louis.” Louis nods his head in agreement, grinning broadly.

“Have you ever seen anyone more beautiful, Marcus?” Louis asks wistfully. “Harry is just so gorgeous, I sometimes can’t believe I get to be with him.”

“He’s lucky to be with you, too, Louis. The two of you make quite the handsome couple,” Marcus agrees, then softer he adds, “I’m really happy for you both. The universe brought you and Harry together. It’s a gift.” Louis ducks his head shyly, but Marcus is his friend and he’s so excited for his evening with Harry that he decides to share a bit more with him.

“Harry has a meeting with Sam tonight, but afterwards we have a special date planned. Harry said he’s even preparing a surprise for me.” He bites his bottom lip and looks down at the table for a moment before looking back at Marcus. “We’ve never… Um… Well, tonight is just going to be special, is all.” Marcus smiles and nods knowingly.

“That’s wonderful, Louis. I think you’ll find that there is nothing more perfect in the universe than the love you share with your soul mate.” He raises his hand in a fist bump, Louis tapping his own fist against Marcus’.

“You’re a good friend, mate,” Louis says. “I’m so glad I have you on my side.”

“I’m honored to be here for you, Louis,” Marcus answers sincerely.

Just then, Ileana enters the Review Room and she’s barely had a chance to take her seat before the justices follow behind, Marcus, Louis and her standing in respect.

The final afternoon session in the Review of the Life of Louis William Tomlinson gets underway.

Marcus is first to present.

Louis takes his seat in the Screening Chair as Marcus stands before the justices and introduces his clip.

“Your honors, for this afternoon session I have a clip to share with you that will effectively counter the arguments the delegate put forth this morning.” He stretches his arm toward the delegate’s table and holds his hand outward toward Ileana. “Ms. Bachchan based her entire case this morning on the false notion that the reason my client failed to stand up for himself in his workplace was out of fear. She artfully conflated Louis’ compassion for another person who endured years of emotional turmoil at the hands of his own son, with personal weakness on Louis’ part,” Marcus says, his voice peppered with disdain. She had the nerve to contend that Louis valued such Earthly things of little consequence to his immortal soul as a job position with an advertising agency over his own, personal integrity.” He shakes his head in disgust and walks to Louis’ side, nodding at him before continuing.

“This afternoon, I will prove to the Review Panel that Ms. Bachchan’s assessment of my client’s behavior is grossly flawed, and I will show that Louis William Tomlinson was not only fearless in defending _himself_ , but that he also bravely stood up for others, despite the repercussions that could potentially result in such actions. When it came to the core tenets by which he lived his life, Louis didn’t care about money or positions of power; he cared about his fellow man _and_ fellow woman. He cared about human compassion and equality and he was willing to give up things he loved dearly and to fight to protect those ideals.” Marcus ushers his hand toward the screen and says dramatically, “I give you 24.5.16.”

 _Twenty-forth year, fifth month, sixteenth day of my life_ , Louis thinks to himself as his chair rotates to face the viewing screen. He grips the chair’s armrests, offering a silent prayer to whoever is in charge of this universe thing that this afternoon’s session will go better than the one he endured that morning.

The lights in the Review Room go dark and as the screen comes to life, its entire surface is covered in the image of lush green blades of green grass. The camera pans out and as it does, a football pitch is revealed. Louis’ eyes go wide and he’s filled with memory; it’s the pitch at the public park in Louis’ old neighborhood in London. _Satchel Park_. Louis’ spent a lot of time there playing football with his mates and just as much time out on that pitch practicing alone.

 _I fucking loved playing on that pitch_ , Louis thinks to himself.

For the second time during his Review, football has come into play and Louis thinks to himself that it’s actually quite appropriate: football always meant so much to him. It relieved stress, kept him fit, and provided him endless hours of fun and camaraderie. The sport was a huge part of his life and the pitch at Satchel Park was one of his absolute favorites. The turf was firm, but provided the right amount of bounce. Plus, there was something about the grass: it was thick and coarse, sticky almost, and even during the rainiest matches, Louis never once slipped. A great pitch can be a crucial contributing factor in a game of football and some of Louis’ best plays and most rigorous matches took place on that pitch at Satchel Park. It was indeed very special to him.

The pitch onscreen is cast in the early morning light of dawn, when Louis’ sometimes liked to slip in a practice before work. Sure enough, the image zooms up the field of grass and lands on skilled feet executing tight, concise moves as they dribble a ball across the thick turf. Louis immediately recognizes the feet as his own, his suspicions confirmed when the camera pulls back just enough to reveal the spider web tattooed on his shin, and then all the way back so that his whole body is on display.

As he watches his younger self onscreen, Louis can actually feel the crisp air on his skin, the smell of dewy grass invading his nostrils. He starts to breathe heavier, his body breaking out in a light sweat as he physically reacts to the exertion put forth by his younger counterpart in front of him.

After this afternoon’s session, Louis will only have one more Review session before his fate is decided and he realizes that he could have a thousand more sessions and he would never get used to how viscerally his body reacts to the clips as they are shown. He’s completely invested: physically, mentally, and emotionally.

 _It’s absolutely unbelievable_.

Just then, the camera zooms across the pitch to a second set of feet, and a female voice shouts, “Pass me the ball, mate!” The camera pans left to reveal the woman behind the voice. She is short in stature, with a pretty round face and dark skin. She wears her hair natural in a loose Afro held back from her forehead with the same type of headband that secures Louis’ own hair. Her body is small and muscular, but despite her tiny frame she is _fast_ and when Louis kicks the ball to her she takes three swift strides, extending her foot gracefully and then effortlessly volleying the ball into the net.

“Impressive!” Louis says, jogging over to the net and picking up the ball. He turns and walks towards her then, extending his hand. “My name’s Louis. I thought I was the only one who came out on the pitch before dawn.”

The girl takes Louis’ hand and offers him a firm shake. “Pleased to meet you, Louis. I’m Chloe. I come out here a lot, actually. I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other before today.”

“Yeah, well to be honest, I haven’t been here as much as of late. I’ve had to scale back a bit since work has been getting hectic. Plus, my fiancé isn’t too fond of me sneaking off in the morning to play ball.”

“Women,” Chloe teases, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Louis laughs politely, but there is a hint of sadness behind his smile. “So what brings you here this morning, then?” Chloe asks.

“Oh… Um. I just needed to get out in the fresh air for a bit. Clear my head of some things,” he replies. Louis watching in the Screening Chair feels a sudden wave of grief and he’s not sure what his younger self was going through in that moment, but he knows that he was definitely sad about something. He ignores the thought.

If Chloe is aware that Louis is unhappy, she doesn’t let on. Instead, she places her hand on her hip and gives Louis the once over. “Well, how ‘bout you clear your head with a scrimmage, yeah?”

“Alright,” Louis replies, nodding his head, a small smile passing over his lips. “You’re on.”

Chloe plucks the ball from Louis’ hands and drops it on the ground and before Louis can even make a move, she’s kicked it out of his reach and is flying across the pitch after it, Louis trailing behind.

Chloe is an amazing footballer and from his seat in the Screening Chair, Louis remembers that the two played for over an hour on that morning and he didn’t think he’d ever met a more formidable opponent. The Louis and Chloe onscreen pass the ball back and between them, practicing footwork, and taking turns playing goalie and striker. By the time the image cuts away and flashes forward to the end of their scrimmage when they decided to call it quits, Louis is absolutely knackered, while Chloe hardly seems winded.

“I’ve never seen such amazing footwork,” Louis compliments, as the two head off toward the carpark and their respective vehicles. “You’ve got impressive control over the ball.”

Louis looks at his wristwatch and the version of himself that is watching from the Screening Chair remembers that he and Chloe had played so long that he barely had time to get home, shower, and get to work on time. If he recalls correctly, he was in fact late to the office that morning.

“You were pretty good yourself, Louis,” Chloe says, unlocking her car door. She’s about to climb inside when Louis stops her.

“What position do you usually play?” he asks, an idea suddenly springing to mind.

“Midfielder,” Chloe answers, and she holds up her hands and makes monster claws. “Attacking midfielder, to be exact.”

“Bloody brilliant,” Louis says, shaking his head. Chloe eyes him curiously. “Listen,” Louis continues. “Some mates and I play for a small club team. We’re sponsored by our local: The Red Hart. Our attacking midfielder blew out his knee recently and his substitute has been… Well, let’s just say he’s a better defender than playmaker. Anyway, we’re looking for a replacement and I think you’d be a perfect fit. I mean, unless you’re already playing with a club.”

Chloe’s eyes grow wide in surprise.

“You’re inviting me to play on your team?”

“Yes.”

“Are there women on your team?”

“No, but there’s a first for everything, right? I mean, you’d have to meet them and tryout, I couldn’t guarantee you a spot without the other lads’ approval, but they’d be crazy to pass on you. I think you’re one of the best I’ve ever sparred with, Chloe.”

“Thanks, Louis,” she says sincerely. She draws in a breath, shaking her head. “This is unbelievable. I’m not playing on a team currently. My last team was great, but they made a sponsorship change I didn’t approve of and I quit. Been looking for a new team since.”

“Sponsorship change?” Louis asks, confused.

“Yeah. The team’s original sponsor was a pizza shop, but the owners retired and the business closed, so our sponsorship was switched to a local bakery famous for refusing to sell wedding cakes to gay couples. I just… I couldn’t be a part of that.” She looks to the ground and shyly adds, “My girlfriend would never forgive me.”

Louis shifts in the Screening Chair. He feels the same emotions he felt in that moment: respect and admiration, peppered with self-doubt and shame. Most of all though, he feels another heavy wave of sadness, but he doesn’t allow himself to even ponder the feeling, his brain pushing it quickly away.

The Louis onscreen smiles sadly.

“Sounds like you made a proper good decision, then,” he says. He clears his throat. “Anyway, we’ve got practice tonight at 7 PM sharp, right here at Satchel Park. Think about coming and giving it a go.” Something in him shifts and he smiles at Chloe then: one of his deep, genuine smiles that cause the skin on the outside of his eyes to crinkle. “I think you’d make a great addition to our miserable crew.”

Chloe studies Louis for a moment, and it’s clear that she’s taken aback by his offer. “I’ll think about it.”

Louis jogs over to his car, opening the door and throwing his bag of footballs in the back seat.

“See you tonight, Chloe!” he says, climbing into the driver seat and shutting the door.

Louis remembers this interaction vividly. It was the start of a great and lasting friendship between him and Chloe. In fact, he met her up with and her partner for lunch the week before he died and he wonders that if in this moment, Chloe on Earth can feel him thinking about her now. _I hope so_ , he thinks to himself and he feels a rush of love for his friend.

As the viewing screen momentarily fades to black, Louis remembers what happened after his morning match with Chloe. How he called Liam from his office and told him all about what a great addition to their team Chloe would make.

At first, Liam was incredulous, grilling Louis on where Chloe would change and shower when they held their matches and gently suggesting that they were a men’s team and maybe she should find a female league. But when Louis explained to Liam what an amazing player Chloe was and told him about some of the moves she’d executed that morning on the pitch, Liam came around and became quite excited by the prospect of breaking tradition and having a woman join their ranks. He did however, caution Louis that the other men on the team might not be so welcoming to the idea of allowing a female to play with them.

“We play with some really pigheaded men, Lou,” Liam had said, reminding Louis about the handful of players who were always cracking sexist jokes about the women in the stands, or boasting about their many female conquests. “I really can’t see Jack or Noah warming to the idea. Have you heard some of the shit that comes out of their mouths?”

“I try not to pay attention,” Louis had replied.

The screen comes back to life and this time Louis’ entire footie team is on the pitch, along with Chloe, who is slaying the other players with her speed, agility, and tactical skills.

Louis smiles as he watches as Chloe swoops in and steal the ball from Noah, expertly passing it to the Louis onscreen. She was a phenomenal player.

After two or three minutes showcasing Chloe defiantly steamrolling the other players during the practice session, the screen fades to black and when it comes back to life a few seconds later, the shot is of the team changing room, where Louis stands in front of the chalkboard used to work out plays, trying to convince his teammates to invite Chloe to join their club. After a back and forth about where Chloe would dress and some very unpleasant jokes about menstrual cycles, Louis asserts himself.

“Everyone in this room knows we need a competent midfielder if we’re going to progress to the club finals,” he says. He looks over at his teammate John Smith, who is sitting on the bench in front of him. Louis holds out his hands in apology. “I mean no offense, John. You’re a bloody brilliant defender.”

“None taken,” John enthusiastically replies. “I hate playing attacker. Chloe was amazing. I think she’d make a great addition to our ranks.” Louis nods his head excitedly.

The Louis watching from the Screening Chair lets out a sigh of relief, just like he did on that day. He remembers thinking to himself at the time that he officially had John and Liam on his side, which was a great start. Maybe the others would follow suit and allow Chloe to join.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Just then, there is a slam of a locker door as a gruff voice speaks up from the opposite side of the room.

Jack Taylor.

“If you think we’re letting a female on our team, then you’re bloody crazy, Tomlinson.”

Louis in the Screening Chair draws in a breath. _Here it comes_ , he thinks and just like he did on that day, he feels his stomach clench, his body buzzing with nervous energy.

The Louis onscreen squares his shoulders. “Well, it’s really not up to you, Jack,” he answers defiantly. “We’ve got fourteen other players on our roster besides you and I’m the team captain. I suggest we put it up for a vote.”

“We’re not fucking voting, Louis. This is a men’s team and we’re not allowing your new little girlfriend to join,” Jack answers and as he does, he takes a step towards Louis.

“She’s not my girlfriend, for chrissake. You bloody well know that I’m getting married in a few weeks. Grow the fuck up, Jack! She’s an excellent player and we’d be lucky to have her.” Louis looks around the room, dismissing Jack completely. “Now then, gentlemen. Let’s take a vote. All in favor of asking Chloe to join our team, raise your hand.”

Liam and John’s hands shoot up immediately and are slowly joined by three other players. Louis looks around the room in frustration as he raises his own hand, six against nine hardly being a majority, but it’s close enough that if he can turn a few more players to his side, Chloe can join the team. He clears his throat to speak.

“Come on, lads. We’re better than this. You all saw her out on the pitch. I can’t believe she’s not gone pro. She’s that good! We’d be lucky to have her.”

Chester Williams starts to raise his hand and Louis smiles proudly at him, but he lowers it back down when Jack turns to him and scowls.

“We don’t want any fucking women on our team, Louis. We’ve taken a vote. It’s final,” Jack declares.

Noah slaps Jack on the back, laughing, “Women are only good for one thing and it ain’t playing footie.” He looks at Louis and extends his arms as if holding an imaginary person from behind and pumps his hips back and forth rapidly, fucking the air. “It’s taking a cock.”

Louis squints his eyes in disgust.

“I’m sure your mother would be very proud to hear you say that, Noah,” he replies.

“Fuck off, Tommo,” Noah hisses.

Louis holds up his hand and walks to his locker, the others in the room watching him silently as they change out of their kits, tension now heavy in the air. Jack crosses his arms in front of his chest, glowering at him.

Louis grabs his knit beanie off his locker hook and then opens his satchel and pulls out the three-ringed notebook he uses to take notes on the games and write out plays. He removes a blank sheet of paper and then rips it into smaller pieces, handing one to each member of the team. He goes back into his satchel and pulls out the two pens stored in the side pocket and then he speaks.

“I think that some people in this room might be intimidated to vote for Chloe, even though they want her on our team.” He looks over to Jack pointedly. “So we’re going to take an anonymous vote so that people feel more free to choose as they please.” He hands his beanie and a pen to Liam, passing the other pen to their team goalie, Nigel. “Write ‘yea’ or ‘nay’ on the slip of paper, drop it in the cap and we’ll tally up the votes properly. Sound fair?”

Several of the players nod their heads in response and despite Jack and Noah’s protests, they all take their turns with the pens, writing their votes on the slips of paper and tossing their folded votes into Louis’ cap.

When the voting is complete, Louis pulls the slips of paper out one by one and reads the results aloud, Liam standing at the chalkboard marking the tally.

In the end, the men vote eight to seven to ask Chloe to join the team. Louis smiles triumphantly and from the Screening Chair, his deceased counterpart feels equally proud. The room erupts in chatter.

But it’s not over.

Before Louis even gets a chance to speak, there is a commotion from the center of the room.

“I’m not playing with any fucking slag, Tomlinson!” Jack shouts, breaking the revelry. Noah stands up beside him.

“Me either. You invite that cunt to play, I’m out,” Noah adds.

Louis shakes his head in disbelief at the absolute vitriol coming out of Jack and Noah’s mouths.

“Watch your fucking tongues, boys! You can’t talk about women like that! You shouldn’t talk about _anyone_ like that. Show a little respect. You both need to calm the fuck down! Chloe is a great player, better than most of the men on this team. She’ll benefit our club and the ‘yeas’ have a majority vote.”

“I’m not fucking playing with her!” Jack shouts.

Louis in the Screening Chair feels anger rising in his belly and his body tenses. He watches breathlessly as his younger self stands up straight and directs his attention to Jack.

“Just what are you so afraid of, Jack? Did she intimidate you out there on the pitch? Scared you’ll be shown up by a woman, yeah?”

“Just why are you so invested in her, Louis? You fucking her? Got her on her back, do you?” Louis’ eyes go wide in surprise.

“Don’t talk about her like that! I just met her this morning and you bloody well know it! I’m getting married in a few weeks and I love my fiancé.” Louis lowers his voice, trying to rein in his anger. “Listen, let’s just calm down about this, yeah? You’re being really ridiculous, Jack. Think about the team.”

“I am thinking about the team!” Jack shouts. “We don’t need any fucking slag dragging us down, skipping practice cause she’s on the rag, or throwing some girlie hissy fit when she doesn’t get her way.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Louis asks, his voice sharp, his volume increasing despite his attempts to remain in control. “You’re the one throwing the hissy fit, calling Chloe names, reducing yourself to an ignorant bully. Seems to me the female stereotypes you’re using describe _you_ , Jack, far more than they do her!”

Louis’ comments draw laughter from a couple of the players in the room and Jack clenches his fists and shoots them a death stare, fury written on his face. The room once again goes silent as Jack narrows his eyes at Louis, his face bright red with rage and embarrassment, and his chest heaving heavy breaths.

Louis and Jack stare at each other for what seemed an eternity at the time, but watching the interaction onscreen, Louis realizes couldn’t have been more than ten seconds.

Suddenly, Jack’s expression relaxes and his lips turn up in a wicked smirk. He assumes a pose: a stance, really. He puts one hand on his waist and juts his hip slightly, raising his free hand at the elbow and dropping his wrist so his hand hangs limply beside his chest.

Louis recognizes the pose immediately, it’s a natural stance he assumed throughout his life, despite endless attempts to break himself of the habit.

Jack is making fun of him.

“I get it now, Tomlinson,” Jack sneers, and he waves his hand about flamboyantly, exaggerating the gesture Louis commonly made. “You _need_ that slag on the team. Wouldn’t want to be the only player who likes a cock now and again, would you?”

Louis’ mouth falls open in utter shock and Louis in the Screening Chair feels himself flush in embarrassment, just as his counterpart does onscreen. Once again, Louis feels a rush of grief as he watches the action unfold onscreen, and this time it lingers.

A moment passes and nobody moves.

“What did you just say to me, Jack?” Louis asks quietly, having regained a bit of his composure.

“You fucking heard me, Tomlinson,” Jack answers, puffing out his chest. He turns to his locker then, opening it to collect his gear. He leans over to Noah and mutters something under his breath, but Louis hears it clear as a bell.

“Fucking Nancy-boy.”

Louis has had enough. He clenches his fists, his face red and pinched in a combination of embarrassment and rage as he bounds across the room to confront Jack. But Jack sees him coming and turns at him, extending both arms and shoving Louis hard, causing him to stumble backwards into Liam.

“Don’t fucking call me that, you fucking loser!” Louis shouts and charges forward, his fists raised and ready to punch, but Liam intercepts him from behind, wrapping his arms around Louis’s chest to hold him back. Jack pounces forward then, but John lunges from the bench and restrains Jack in the same manner that Liam is holding Louis.

“S’not true,” Louis mumbles, his words barely discernable between his heavy breaths, and if he hadn’t spoken the words himself, the Louis in the Screening Chair might not even understand what the Louis onscreen is saying. “I’m getting married, you fucking tosser.”

Louis’ heart beats faster in his chest as he watches the tussle onscreen. His breathing picks up, his chest rising and falling rapidly in perfect tandem with the way it moves in the clip. He takes a calming breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth, but in addition to the anger he is feeling, his heart is heavy with sadness and he’s unable to shake the feeling.

Just then, Nigel stands, his voice imploring as he speaks, “Listen, Louis. This isn’t worth it! Jack and Noah are two of our strongest players and we’ll lose them if we take on Chloe!” He looks around the room at the other players and raises his hands, rationalizing, “She was really amazing out there and we _all_ know she’s a great player and she’s fit for our team. But if we take her on, this team will implode. Look at the way the two of you are going after each other now. We can’t have that.”

Louis shifts his shoulders forward, breaking Liam’s grip. He stands panting, his hands on his hips.

“You really feel that way, Nigel?” he asks.

“I do,” Nigel answers, his voice sad. “I want Chloe on the team. I really do. But I don’t want the team to break apart over her. And that’s what will happen. He points to Jack and Noah and by the tone of his voice, he is trying to sound teasing, but Louis can tell he means what he says when he adds, “You know if we ask her to join those two arseholes will make her life miserable.”

Jack, the utter moron, actually laughs loudly and gives Noah the thumbs-up sign.

Louis looks around the room. “Do you all feel that way?” he asks.

Slowly, several members of the team start to nod their heads in agreement. Nobody, it appears, want to lose Jack and Noah, even though they are two of the biggest pricks Louis has ever had the misfortune of knowing.

“Okay, then,” Louis says, walking over to his locker. He’s still dressed in his practice kit and cleats but he gathers his satchel, chucking his shoes and day clothes inside. He strides over to the chalkboard and picks up his knit beanie, which is resting in the chalk holder and then slides it over his head. He takes one last look around at his teammates, his body steeped in sadness, but his voice sure when he speaks.

“I quit.”

Louis turns and walks out of the changing room, his teammates staring at him in shock as he goes.

The screen fades to black.

The lights come up in the Review Room and Louis’ chair rotates to face the justices. Marcus stands from the advocate’s table and picks up the pitcher of water, pouring a glassful and carrying it over to Louis who gratefully accepts his offering, drinking it down without taking a breath. He feels spent and depleted, his body thrumming with the same anger, disappointment, and tinged with humiliation as it did on that day all those years ago. Not to mention the sadness, which Louis cannot quite name, yet is ever present.

When he finishes the glass he passes it back to Marcus who asks if he’d like another, but Louis shakes his head and takes a deep breath, willing the tension to leave his body. After two more deep breaths, he starts to feel himself relax and he clears his throat, nodding his head in indication that he’s ready to proceed.

“Louis, how long did you play on The Red Hart football team?” Marcus asks.

“Nearly six years,” Louis replies. My best mate, Liam and I first joined when we moved to London for uni. It was a good team and we had a lot of fun playing for them. There were some really great blokes on that team. Well, most of them, anyway,” he adds, his voice trailing off at the end.

“At the start of your final year playing with The Red Harts, you were named captain, is that correct?”

“It is. The team voted for me unanimously. I was very honored.”

“And so it’s safe to say that playing for that team, and the role you served as captain was important to you?”

“It was very important to me. We played both spring and autumn seasons. I spent nine months out of the year on the pitch with those lads.” He lowers his voice and adds wistfully, “Some of the best times in my life were spent playing footie with my mates.”

Marcus nods his head and then repeats Louis’ words. “‘Some of the best times of your life’. That’s quite a powerful statement.”

“Well it’s true. I mean, obviously, I hold in my heart the times I shared with my family and loved ones in a different way and I’m not trying to take away from that or even compare the two. But I always felt…” Louis scratches his head, trying to come up with a proper description. “I guess it might sound melodramatic, but the football pitch has always been a bit of a sacred place for me. I’ve always felt free and completely happy when I’m playing football.” He shrugs his shoulders and huffs a soft laugh. “Even if my team was losing.”

“But you’d prefer to win,” Marcus says lightly, offering Louis a friendly wink.

“Definitely,” Louis concurs with a smile of his own.

“So, when you met Chloe out on the pitch as we just saw in the clip, you were thinking about your team and how she could help them to win when you asked her to join?”

“I was. She was an absolutely amazing footballer. She could have brought so much to our game, had she been allowed to play.”

“Before your practice that evening, did you ask any of your teammates what they would think about a woman joining your club?”

“I did. I asked my best mate, Liam. I knew he’d be honest with me and he was.”

“What was his reaction when you told him about Chloe, Louis?” Marcus asks, and as he speaks, he begins to slowly pace back and forth in front of Louis, as if carefully considering every word Louis has to say. Louis is very fond of his new friend.

“At first he said it wasn’t a good idea. He was concerned about where Chloe would dress before matches and all that, but we talked it out and he came around. Of course, he did try to warn me that others on the team might not be so receptive to the idea of a woman joining.”

Louis relaxes his shoulders and smiles at the memory of what happened _after_ he stormed out of the changing room on that day. “After I quit the team and left the changing room, Liam hung around long enough to chew out our teammates for being such pigheaded chauvinists and then he quit too. John, who was covering the position that Chloe would have filled, also quit.”

Louis closes his eyes for a moment as the memory of Liam and John running across the carpark to catch up with him fills his body with warmth. The three of them went out for pints afterwards and eventually after several months of trial and error, the group found a new team, and best of all, their members were more than happy to allow Chloe to join their club. A year later, when that team, The Running Footmen, beat The Red Harts in the championship match and Louis, Liam, John, and the rest of their teammates hoisted Chloe in the air as she raised the trophy over her head, the feeling of satisfaction that Louis gleaned when they paraded her past Jack and Noah could not be measured. Several of their old teammates were proper sportsmen and congratulated them on the victory, but Jack and Noah stormed off the field in utter disgust. Louis loved every second of watching them skulk away in defeat.

“That evening, after Chloe came to practice and showed off her skills, what was the mood like in the changing room?” Marcus asks, interrupting Louis’ thoughts.

Louis takes a moment to consider. “It was okay at first, I suppose. Perhaps a bit tense, but as you could see in the clip, it got progressively worse when certain teammates started voicing their outrage at my suggestion that we should invite Chloe to join our club.”

Marcus rubs his chin and looks at Louis seriously. “You mentioned that your friend Liam warned you that there were men on your team who wouldn’t be happy playing with a woman.”

“Yeah, there were a few who were pretty obnoxious when it came to changing room banter and all that, but I also knew that of the lot of them, Jack and Noah were by far the worst and would probably put up a fight if I suggested we ask her to join.”

Marcus nods his head and then looks at each of the three justices and then Ileana before saying, “But you brought it up anyway.”

“I did. I honestly was thinking about the team. The fact that Chloe was a woman shouldn’t have mattered. She was such an amazing player and we would have been lucky to have her. I thought there would be a bit of backlash, of course, but I was actually shocked by what transpired. It just got really ugly in that changing room.”

“It did get ugly,” Marcus concurs. “But you stood your ground.”

Louis shrugs his shoulders, not sure what to say.

“Jack was a large man, Louis. He was at least a head taller than you and probably bested you in weight by three or four stone. Noah was quite sizable, too. They were the biggest players on your team, and yet, you stood up to them and you defended Chloe.”

Louis feels a warm flush color his cheeks.

“Was just doing what I thought was right,” he says quietly.

“Were you afraid when you confronted Jack?”

Louis swallows thickly, but he knows that being honest is the most important thing in the Review process. “I was,” he answers. “Jack had a terrible temper. He was big and strong and he could have really hurt me if he wanted.”

“But you stood up to him.”

“I had to. It was the right thing to do.”

“When Jack called Chloe derogatory names, you were quick to stand up for her; you were willing to fight someone who could surely best you in a physical match, just to defend a practical stranger’s honor, isn’t that true?”

“I… Um. Well, I found what he said to be very offensive. Although I’d just met Chloe, I knew that she didn’t deserve that because no woman does. So, yes, I would have fought to defend her, if it came down to all that.”

“Aside from the physical dangers, you risked other things by confronting Jack, isn’t that true, Louis?”

“Um… I’m not sure what you mean,” Louis answers. He feels completely humbled by Marcus’ questioning. He never realized that what he did in that changing room on that day was anything extraordinary or particularly special, but Marcus is showing him that it was. He wishes he had given himself more credit for such actions when he was on Earth.

“You played with The Red Harts for nearly six years and in that time, you gave your all to that team: you never missed a practice, put in extra hours during your own time to work out alone or help other players with their skills, and eventually, your hard work paid off and you were named captain.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“So, when you confronted your teammates over their bigotry, you risked earning the ire of your team and losing your position as their leader.”

Louis snorts a soft laugh in response. “Well, I guess in the end my position as leader didn’t matter that much. When they wouldn’t let her join, I quit. Simple as that.”

“But you loved playing football, Louis. You were a member of that team for nearly six years! And yet you quit over a woman!” Marcus’ marvels, his voice dramatic.

“I didn’t quit over a woman, per se,” Louis answers. “I quit because it was the right thing to do. As much as I loved the game, I could never play for a team that would so blatantly discriminate against another player, male or female. I could have never lived with myself if I would have stuck with them.”

Marcus nods his head in satisfaction.

“Your actions were very brave, Louis.”

“I… I was just trying to do the right thing,” Louis replies.

“The right thing isn’t always easy,” Marcus answers. He turns and strides to the center of the room, directing his attention to the justices as he continues. “What we just saw was the epitome of selfless bravery. My client was willing to give up playing a sport he loved: a sport that brought him much inner-peace and happiness, in order to stand up for what he believed in, what he absolutely _knew_ was right. He faced scrutiny and the fists of men nearly twice his size, but he stood his ground because he was a man of integrity. Louis Tomlinson did not live a life dictated by _fear_ ; he bravely faced his fear even when it cost him the things that mattered most to him.”

Louis lets out a slow sigh of relief. His morning session had been absolutely brutal, but Marcus somehow has managed to salvage this afternoon session and Louis couldn’t be more pleased.

“I have nothing further,” Marcus states and then returns to the advocate’s table. Louis looks over to him and offers him a smile of gratitude. Marcus raises his fist slightly off the table and Louis mimics his actions, the gesture of solidarity reassuring Louis.

 _This is going to be okay_ , he thinks to himself, completely unobservant of Ileana slowly pushing back her chair and standing from the delegate’s table. She walks over to Louis and when she speaks, he jumps a little, startled.

 _Shit_.

“It was very admirable what you did on that day, Louis,” Ileana says. Louis looks at her, surprised by her praise as she continues. “I don’t think there’s a person in this room who wouldn’t argue that the way you stood up for Chloe was very brave. I certainly wouldn’t take such a stance. You faced down a bully and you gave up something you loved in defense of another person.” She looks at Louis and her expression is sincere when she adds, “You acted with honor, Louis. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, his cheeks blushing a soft pink. It never fails to catch him off guard how heartfelt and kind Ileana can be, even though her sole purpose is to send him back to Earth.

“Because I don’t want to belittle the selfless act you committed in defense of Chloe, I’m only going to briefly question you about that portion of the clip, alright?”

“Alright,” Louis answers, and while he wants to feel relieved, he’s quite certain Ileana is not going to let him off so easily.

“But there is something that I _do_ want to bring up, Louis.” Louis draws in a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves he feels rising in his belly.

 _Here we go_.

“Your teammate Jack made some very nasty comments about Chloe,” Ileana says, looking at Louis carefully.

“He did,” Louis answers.

“He even implied that the reason you were defending her was because you were having a sexual relationship with her.”

“He said that, yeah. But it wasn’t true. I’d only just met her that morning, although she eventually become quite a good friend of mind.”

Ileana furrows her brow, contemplating.

“Were you offended when Jack implied you were having relations with Chloe, Louis?”

“Of course, I was!” he answers, surprised by such an obvious question. “It was so wrong of Jack to talk about Chloe like that. It was degrading and she didn’t deserve it.”

“And you defended her and yourself against such accusations, didn’t you, Louis?”

“I did.”

“You mentioned in the clip that you were due to be married in a few weeks. Was that true?”

“Yes, it was true. My wedding was on the eleventh of June. It was just a few weeks after the incident we watched occurred.”

“Would it be safe to say that when you defended Chloe’s honor regarding Jack’s allegation, that you were also defending the honor of your future wife, Eleanor?”

Louis pauses and contemplates the question. “I never thought about it like that, but I guess so,” he answers, his voice cautious.

“Well, you made a point of bringing her up. You used the fact that you were getting married as reasoning that you weren’t having relations with Chloe.”

“I… But… But, I wasn’t having relations with Chloe,” Louis replies. He’s completely confused to what Ileana is implying, but the tidal pool of nerves in his belly is rising and he feels anticipation that something scary and unknown is fast approaching. It’s like he’s strapped into a rickety rollercoaster car, trudging slowly up the steep tracks as it’s pulled toward the top of a huge hill, and he’s just waiting for the car to teeter over the apex and plunge him into something terrifying.

“Jack’s sexist comments about Chloe, coupled with his allegations that you were having relations with her angered you, Louis. It’s very evident from the clip that you were upset and you immediately stood up and set things right. But what really set you off, what incited you to clench your fists and charge at Jack wasn’t the things he said about Chloe or any relationship you might be having with her, was it?”

“I… I don’t understand. What Jack said about Chloe _was_ the reason I was going to fight him,” Louis answers. He feels a chill run through his body and a thin sheen of perspiration breaks out on his skin.

“No, Louis. The reason you were going to fight Jack was because he brought up your sexuality.”

Louis closes his eyes, completely shocked. He doesn’t even know how to respond, but he feels so thrown that he’s not sure he could actually speak if he tried. And yet, the anticipation that something _even worse_ is coming is ever present. His rollercoaster car is still climbing the hill.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

“Jack mimicked your posture and he made a very crass comment about your sexual preferences, didn’t he?”

“Um… Yeah, he did,” Louis answers, his voice cracking. He feels a sour lump bubbling up in the back of his throat. It tastes both sickly sweet and bitter, the churning bile in his stomach being pushed up through his esophagus and causing a burning sensation in his whole mouth. He doesn’t remember a time he’s ever felt so nervous and he knows it’s because something awful is coming. Sitting in the Screening Chair, Louis Tomlinson has a clear premonition that Ileana Bachchan is about to undo him.

“He called you a name: a derogatory term. What did he call you, Louis?”

Louis closes his eyes and wills himself to be strong. When he opens them again, he sits up straighter in his chair and looks at Ileana directly in the eyes as he speaks. “He called me a ‘Nancy-boy’.”

“He was insinuating you were gay, wasn’t he, Louis?”

“He was.”

“Are you gay, Louis?”

Louis draws in a breath. At this point in the game, he really shouldn’t be surprised by Ileana’s directness, but nonetheless, he is. He nods his head. “I am gay and I am very proud of my sexuality, but at the time of the clip, I didn’t know that about myself yet.”

Ileana’s face softens and she walks over to the delegate’s desk, picking up a sheaf of notes. She looks at them for just a brief moment and then sets them back down. She smoothes out her skirt and then draws in a deep breath as if steeling herself for what she’s about to say next and then she returns to face Louis.

“You’re telling this Review panel that at the time Jack made that comment to you, you didn’t know you were gay?” she asks.

“I… I don’t know what I knew, actually. I’d heard my stepfather make derogatory slurs about gay people practically my entire childhood and he had certainly made it clear that he wouldn’t accept me if I was gay.”

“But your mother and stepfather had been divorced over five years when that clip took place, Louis, and your stepfather certainly had changed his stance on homosexuality by that point, isn’t that true?”

“It is, but his earlier behavior had an impact. I still was really unsure of myself all those years later. I was confused and it took me a very long time to acknowledge my sexuality. In fact, my stepfather accepted who I was long before I even did.”

“So at the time Jack made those hateful comments to you, you didn’t know and had not yet acknowledged that you were gay?”

Louis nods his head rapidly and he can hardly mask the nervousness and bewilderment in his voice when he answers, “No, I didn’t. Not then, anyway.”

“But if you _had_ known you were gay, you would have stood up for yourself, correct?”

“I’d like to think that I would have,” Louis answers before quickly rethinking the question. “No, wait. I _absolutely_ would have stood up for myself. Once I knew who I was and came out, I never had a problem asserting my sexuality or defending myself against homophobia,” he states emphatically.

“When Jack implied you were gay and the two of you went to fight each other, your friend Liam held you back and as he you thrashed about trying to break free from Liam’s grip, you said something under your breath. What did you say, Louis?” Louis grips the armrests of the Screening Chair tightly. He takes a deep breath and then answers.

“I said it wasn’t true.”

“You said something else, you said you were getting married, using the same defense you used when Jack accused you of having relations with Chloe.”

“Yes, and it’s true, I was getting married! And I did, just a few weeks later. We already discussed this,” he adds, frustration now creeping in.

“Yes, Louis, but just because you were getting married, didn’t make what you Jack said about you untrue; you were, and are, in fact gay.”

“But at the time I didn’t know! You’re making it sound like being gay is a bad thing! I don’t understand. I’m not sorry for who I am!” Louis practically shouts. His body is buzzing with energy and not only does he feel absolutely panicked, nervous energy thrumming through his veins, but he’s also starting to feel very irritated and embarrassed, the anger and shame he’d managed to let go of after watching the clip now pushing its way back to the forefront.

Ileana looks at Louis and her face is open and her voice rings of the truth when she answers, “Louis, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay and I apologize deeply if I implied as much. The universe embraces all sexualities equally. Love is boundless and in the end, it’s all that matters.”

Louis shakes his head, completely confused by what Ileana is trying to convey. “Then why do you keep bringing it up?” he asks, frustration evident in his voice.

“Perhaps I’m not being clear here, so let me state it more succinctly,” she answers. “My questions may seem to be about your sexuality, but I am only asking you these questions in the context of love and fear. When Jack made derogatory comments about your sexuality your response was to get angry, but that anger was based in fear, because you knew the words he was saying about you – regardless of how crass the delivery – were true.”

Louis shakes his head and scrubs his face in frustration.  

“That’s not true! I didn’t even know I was gay at the time, so how could I be afraid?” he asks earnestly, but in his heart, his conviction starts to falter as his mind races over the timeline of his life. There is something… _someone_ , Louis spent the last six years of his life and the better part of this afternoon trying to forget, to blot out of his memory completely, and Louis knows if he lets the memory of that someone in, Ileana just might be proven right.

“You knew you were gay, Louis, and you were afraid your teammates would find out and that’s what made you angry enough to physically fight: _fear_. You were not willing to raise your fists against Jack to defend yourself or your sexuality, you didn’t even try to fight to defend Chloe through a physical reprisal, although, I suspect if Jack had pushed hard enough, you would have, your willingness to stand up for her was quite admirable,” Ileana allows. “But the only reason you were incited to get into a physical altercation was because of a fear so strong that you had no other choice but to raise your fists. You absolutely had to shut Jack down because you were afraid of the words Jack spit at you; you were afraid of being gay.”

“So what if I was? I came out eventually! You can’t put a time clock on when people come out or why. Every experience is unique. I came out when I was ready!”

“Yes, Louis, you did.” Marcus states, standing from the advocate’s table. His face is pinched and angry and when he glares at Ileana, Louis thinks he actually sees a flash of hurt in her expression before her face returns to its neutral state. “This has gone on long enough and this questioning is out of line.” He and Ileana gawk at each other and the tension in the room is thick when Marcus again speaks, “Exactly why are you badgering my client about his sexuality? You’re overstepping – ”

“Ms. Bachchan, I tend to agree with Mr. Diamond. If you have a point you are trying to make, please make that point now,” the Chief Justice says, cutting Marcus off. Marcus sits back down, and although she looks a bit rattled, Ileana’s voice is certain when she continues.

“Yes, your honor,” she says. “I’m getting to my point, I promise you.” She returns her attention to Louis.

“Do you know the greatest gift the universe can give a person, Louis?” Ileana asks quietly.

Louis shakes his head ‘no’, but does not answer aloud.

Ileana looks around the Review Room and continues speaking. “Everyone in this room knows the answer to that question, and I’m going to share it with you now. The greatest gift the universe can give to a person is _love_.”

“Oh,” Louis replies, his mouth a perfect circle. It makes sense really; Marcus told him before this very session started that love was a gift, and the Chief Justice said as much just a few days previous when she explained the process of the _Five in Five_ screening to Louis.

 _In the end, the love is all that remains_.

Louis has love now. He has love with Harry and it’s the greatest love he’s ever known, bar none. He can’t imagine a more perfect gift than that and so he looks to Ileana and nods his head. “I understand,” he says. And he truly does.

“At the time of the clip, you had love, Louis. You were very much _in love_ when Jack made those crass statements to you and yet you didn’t defend that love. You didn’t defend it because you were afraid. Do you know what the greatest tragedy in the universe is, Louis?”

Louis swallows and shifts in his seat. He suddenly feels very sad. “No,” he whispers, looking down at his lap.

“The greatest tragedy in the universe is to deny that gift: _to deny love_ , Louis.”

“But I didn’t deny my love, I defended it!” Louis pleads. “I told Jack I was getting married and that I loved my fiancé. I defended Eleanor!”

“But Eleanor wasn’t the person you were in love with, was she, Louis? You didn’t need to defend your love for her, because your love for her, while very special, was little more than platonic. You loved her in much the same way you loved your friend Liam or any other of the important people in your life, but you weren’t _in_ love with her.”

“Wha-what are you talking about?” Louis asks, but then it all comes crashing down upon him: the reason he kept feeling waves of sadness while watching the clip. He feels like the air has been punched out of his lungs. For a moment he can’t breathe, can’t move; he just sits there, utterly frozen and completely helpless as his imaginary rollercoaster car reaches the apex of the hill, teetering precariously over the edge before finally making the drop.

 _There it is_.

Louis feels his stomach plunge into freefall as he plummets downward into one of the most painful episodes of his past _._

“The universe gave you the greatest gift there is and you denied it, outright rejected it because you were afraid.”

Louis feels moisture begin to well behind his eyes and soon enough he feels the prickling sensation as that moisture pools in their corners and a single tear slowly spills down his cheek. For the first time since this session has started, he allows himself to really think about _him_.

 _The artist_.

The memories come rushing in then and flood Louis with instantaneous anguish as he is suddenly wrapped in the cruel, unyielding hold of unhappy memory. He just wants to break free, wants to forget about him once and for all but he can’t, because he knows that the artist is the person Ileana is talking about and he knows in his gut that things are about to get a lot worse.

“Please don’t,” he whispers and as he looks at Ileana he notes the sadness in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Louis,” she answers quietly. She turns to face the justices and clears her throat. “The clip I’ll be showing this afternoon was recorded just one evening previous to the clip we just viewed. I’d like to bring up 24.5.15, please.”

Louis’ chair rotates and once again the lights in the Review Room go dim and before the screen even comes to life, Louis hears the sound of a shower running and then the squeaky turn of an old faucet as the water is turned off.

The viewing screen lights up then and its entire surface is covered in a field of color: splotches of blue and green, accented with reds and oranges and bright slashes of pink, black, and yellow encompassing Louis’ field of vision before the camera pulls back to reveal that the colors are all part of a graffiti art piece spray painted onto a bathroom wall.

Louis hasn’t seen that bathroom in over six years and he certainly never thought he would be seeing it again, least of all during a trial taking place after his own death. His stomach clenches and the taste of bile once again surges in the back of his throat. Another tear rolls down his cheek and he wipes it away.

The camera pans across the room and lands on a bright pink shower curtain boasting a ridiculous floral print that is in utter contrast to the abstract patterns spray painted on every inch of the three surrounding walls. An arm, covered in a menagerie of mismatched tattoos that Louis recognizes as his own, snakes out of the curtain and grabs a towel off the metal bar that hangs above the toilet and then the curtain is pulled all the way back revealing Louis, who is running the towel over his body as he steps out of the tub and onto a bright pink bathmat.

Thankfully, the shot is from his waist up. This entire experience has been humiliating enough and Louis is relieved his full nude body isn’t on display for everyone in the Review Room to see.

The Louis onscreen takes the two steps from the bathtub to the door and pulls a pair of joggers from the hook that hangs there, stepping into them and positioning the waistband over his hips. He grabs a T-shirt that hangs on the next hook over and feeds his head through the neck hole, working his arms through the long sleeves and then pulling the shirt over his taut abs and tiny swell of a tummy. He picks a comb off the ledge of the sink and stands in front of the mirror and as he runs it through his hair, he uses his free hand to pull the collar of his shirt from side to side, examining his neck for any marks. He closes his eyes for a moment and blows out a heavy sigh of relief before turning and opening the bathroom door.

From the Screening Chair, as he watches himself exit the toilet and step into the studio space of the artist’s flat, Louis’ nostrils are flooded with the layered scents of oil paint, spray paint, and turpentine, along with the musky aroma of cologne and cigarettes: the combination entirely familiar and despite the memories associated with them, not completely unpleasant.

Louis feels a dull ache in his chest as the camera pans across the studio flat. There is a small living area with a sofa, coffee table and flat screen television that rests atop a couple of overturned milk crates, the space surprisingly tidy, despite the cramped quarters. Sketchbooks and art supplies are stacked neatly throughout. One entire wall of the flat is brick and there is a kitchenette with a tiny butcher-block table set a meter or so from the sink. The Louis watching from the Screening Chair remembers that he and the artist occasionally used that table when dining on takeaway, or on especially rare occasions: when sharing tea and toast for breakfast. Directly beside the kitchen area is the open space where the artist did most of his work. There are three easels, each holding canvases covered in cubist renderings in various states of completion, the wood floor in this area covered in speckles of paint in every color imaginable.

The camera then pans to a platform bed covered in completely disheveled, mismatched sheets, zooming across its surface and settling on the back of a lean male body with tawny skin covered in tattoos, his face buried in a pillow, his head completely obscured save for a shock of black hair.

Louis swallows back a lump in his throat, his mouth tasting bitter and dry. _There he is_ , he thinks to himself and he feels enveloped in sadness and shame. The artist sits up then, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, but the camera remains on his back as he stands, and his firm, naked arse is on full view as he reaches across the crumbled sheets and grabs a pair of pants that are kicked near the foot of the mattress. He steps into them and pulls them up to his waist, just as the Louis onscreen enters the scene and approaches the bed. Louis is just about to wrap his arms around the artist from behind, but stops in his tracks when the artist starts to speak. He doesn’t bother turning around to face Louis.

“That it then? Stopped by for a quick shag and then you’re on your way?”

“Zee,” Louis answers quietly. “Please don’t be like this. You know I have to leave. It’s already half ten.”

The artist turns around then and from his chair, Louis gasps. He’d almost forgotten just how beautiful he was. The features of his face look like they were carefully chiseled from stone: his cheekbones and jaw line sharp and angular. His eyes are a honeyed brown and almond shaped and he has thick black lashes that fan dramatically around them and are framed perfectly by delicately arched eyebrows. His nose is thin and straight and in exact proportion to his other facial features, his bottom lip fuller than the upper. His hair is long on top and slicked back in a relaxed quiff, a single loose strand hanging over his forehead, the sides shaved short. He’s simply gorgeous and Louis thinks that aside from Harry, who is incredibly beautiful both inside and out, the artist is one of the best-looking people he’s ever seen, much less actually known.

The artist reaches over to the nightstand and pulls a cigarette from a pack, lighting it and taking a heavy drag. He exhales, blowing smoke out of his mouth as he speaks.

“You know, Louis. I’m getting right tired of our little situation, here.” He points his cigarette back and forth between the two of them in emphasis. “I didn’t sign up to be a fuckboy for a closet case, you know?”

Louis recoils, his face turning bright red in embarrassment. “Don’t call me that, Zee,” he replies, his voice quiet and sad. “I don’t deserve it. I’ve always been honest with you… You knew what this was from the start; you knew I was getting married when we met.” Louis looks down at the floor for a moment and when he looks up to face the artist again, he adds, “You’ve always known that I love my fiancé,” but there is no conviction to his words.

“Bullshit!” the artist replies, his tone biting. He throws back his head and lets out a rueful laugh, the sound sending a chill down Louis’ spine as he watches the interaction unfold on the screen before him. “You don’t love her and you know it, Louis.” He takes a step toward Louis and wraps his arm around his waist, jerking Louis forward so that their bodies are flush. “I don’t even think she loves _you_ , to be honest. Seems to me, she’s more caught up in planning a grand wedding than she actually is in being your wife.”

“That’s not true,” Louis mutters and he starts to pull away, but the artist places his hand on Louis’ cheek and caresses it gently. His voice is low and soothing as he continues, “But _I_ love you, Louis and _you_ fucking love me.” He leans in and hovers his lips a breath away from Louis’ as if he’s going to kiss him, Louis’ body going pliant in his arms. Louis tilts his head upward in an attempt to force their mouths together but as he does so, the artist draws back and once again speaks, his voice sad as he adds, “Just once… Just one time, Louis, I’d like to hear you say it.”

The two stare at each other for several long beats and as he helplessly watches the moment drag out onscreen, Louis feels the same mixture of anxiety and longing that he felt in that moment, because more than anything in the world, he wanted to tell the artist that he loved him. Because he did love the artist; he loved him so much. But Louis was weak, and he simply couldn’t bring himself to say those three little words to another man.

 _Because I was afraid_.

“Zee, listen,” Louis starts and the artist briefly winces as if in pain before his expression changes to steely rage. He pushes Louis out of his arms and Louis falls back onto the bed, quickly springing back onto his feet to latch onto the artist’s elbow. The artist shakes him off and takes several steps away from Louis.

“Don’t say it, Louis. I can’t listen to your bullshit excuses, anymore. I’m done. I’m fucking done.” He turns around and looks Louis in the eyes and when he speaks, his voice is resolute. “This thing between us? It’s fucking over.”

Louis in the Screening Chair feels a flood of panic rush through his body, threatening to topple him out of his seat as he relives exactly how he felt in that moment: utterly terrified that he would lose the man he loved, but equally frightened to have that man fully in his life. The Louis onscreen speaks.

“Please,” Louis pleads and his eyes begin to water, the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, just like the tears that already fall down the cheeks of his deceased counterpart, who is watching the screen anxiously, his heart beating at breakneck pace. “I’m so sorry, Zee. Please don’t be angry with me.” The Louis onscreen bites his lip and clears his throat and the Louis watching remembers he was so close to saying it in that moment. He was desperate and aching and the words were on the very tip of his tongue. “I… Zee, I…”

The artist turns around and stares at Louis, his face full of expectation as he waits for Louis to spit out what he’s trying to say. “I… I care about you so much,” Louis says meekly, chickening out.

The artist throws his head back in disgust. “Bloody hell, you’re a real bastard, you know that Louis? I can’t believe I ever allowed myself to get caught up with the likes of you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Louis answers.

“Save your fucking apologies, Louis!”

The artist marches over to a side chair and picks up a satchel that Louis recognizes as the same bag from the previous clip: Louis’ kit bag. He stalks over to Louis and shoves it in his arms. “Get your shoes on and get out.”

“Please, Zee. I don’t want to fight with you. Don’t send me away like this. Can’t we just talk for a minute?” Louis begs, his voice utterly panicked

“There’s nothing left to talk about, Louis!” The artist narrows his eyes and his words are biting when he continues.

“You know, there’s nothing I pity more than a self-hating queer and that’s _exactly_ what you are. For six months we’ve been sneaking around together and do you want to know something funny? In the beginning, I loved all of it: the secret meet-ups, blowing you in carparks, fucking you all over this flat.” He holds out his arms and then shakes his head in disbelief. “To think I actually liked the chase back then; got a bit of a thrill each time you told me you were straight. It was like a bloody challenge,” he marvels. His face goes hard then and he continues speaking. “But then it got boring, Louis. In fact, it got very old, very fast. But I hung on to you because I love you and I figured that eventually, you’d finally accept who you are and we could be together proper. Thought you might even come out for me.” He squints his eyes in disgust and jabs his index finger at Louis’ chest, Louis raising his satchel in a weak defensive move. “But I realized tonight when I no sooner pulled my cock out of that thick arse of yours and you slinked away into the shower to wash the sex and my scent off of your skin that you’re _never_ going to accept yourself. You’re a fucking coward, Louis Tomlinson. You’re so damn terrified of being yourself that you’d rather spend the rest of your life fucking a woman you don’t even love and aren’t attracted to, rather than admit that you’re gay... And trust me, Louis, no man takes a dick the way you do and is straight.” He shakes his head in disgust and adds, “I feel so sorry for you.”

Louis’ stomach is absolutely roiling now and he feels a wave of nausea. He’s hot and he’s sweating and yet, there is a contrasting chill thrumming through his core and he’s actually shivering. He thinks he may vomit; the artist’s words affecting him so profoundly that he can’t control himself and he gasps out a sob as he watches his younger self onscreen do the same.

That moment, shown larger than life on the giant screen of the Review Room, was one of the most heartbreaking and humiliating experiences of Louis’ entire life and it was excruciating enough the first time around, and now, having to endure it again before Ileana and Marcus and his Review panel it’s the worst thing he could ever possibly imagine. Louis’ every weakness is on full display for everyone in the Review Room to see; everyone in that room is privy to deeply personal details about his sexual relationship with another man and he’s just so embarrassed and ashamed by the words the artist spat at him that he thinks he might burst out of his skin. He just wants to die, but the irony is that the reason he’s being put through this nightmare of a screening is because he’s already dead.

The Louis onscreen speaks.

“I’m not… Zee, I’m not – ”

The artist cuts him off midsentence. “I swear to all things holy, Louis. If I have to hear you tell me one more time that you’re not gay when I fucked you senseless for the last hour, I’ll knock you flat on your arse. I’m so done with you, you pansy shit.”

He picks up Louis’ pair of white Vans then and plops them on top of the satchel Louis holds in his arms. He drops his hands firmly on Louis’ shoulders, turning him around and then pushing him across the room, Louis taking awkward, quick steps and tripping over his own feet as he tries to keep up. When they reach the front door to the flat, Louis turns around and faces him, fat tears streaming down his cheeks. He lets out a stuttering breath and starts to speak.

“I wasn’t going to say that, Zee,” and Louis in the Screening Chair knows his younger self is lying. “Please… Just listen to me. Let me talk to you. I know this hasn’t been fair to you. It hasn’t been fair to _anybody_ and I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t imagine not having you in my life, Zee. Please don’t shut me out. This can’t be over. Please. Please, just let me stay.”

“You’re marrying a woman!” the artist shouts and Louis shudders at his words. He stands in front of the door completely defeated, unable to wipe away his own tears because his arms are weighed down with his footie gear. The room goes completely quiet, save for the sound of Louis’ sniffles.

The artist stands in front of Louis and stares at him, anger written all over his face. But then after studying Louis for several long beats, he relaxes his stance and lets out a heavy sigh as his face softens. He lifts Louis’ shoes off the pile in Louis’ arms and places them on the floor.

Louis closes his eyes and exhales a relieved breath, but the artist doesn’t ask him to stay. Instead, he reaches down and unzips the satchel Louis clutches, never taking his eyes off Louis’ own. Louis stares back at him, obviously afraid to move or speak lest he be sent away, and the artist watches Louis closely as he slides his hand inside the satchel and fishes around for a moment before pulling out Louis’ cell phone. The artist then takes Louis’ bag from him and sets it on the floor next to Louis’ shoes. He slowly pushes Louis against the door and brackets his arms on either side of Louis’ head, Louis’ phone still clutched in his right hand. The two just look at each other for a long moment; the air thick with tension and electricity until the artist finally leans in and smashes his lips against Louis’, kissing him passionately.

Louis in the Screening Chair hitches a breath and his lips begin to tingle. He feels confused and sad and he feels an ache of longing that mimic the feelings he was undergoing in that moment.

The Louis onscreen starts to wrap his hands behind the artist’s neck, tries to draw him in closer, but the artist pulls back.

“Tell me you love me, Louis,” he pants, his voice desperate as his eyes search Louis’ face. “Tell me you love me and then call your fiancé and break it off with her. Do it right now and I promise you, you can stay. You can stay here forever if you’ll just do those two things for me, Louis.”

Louis’ chest rises and falls rapidly and the two continue to stare into each other’s eyes. The artist doesn’t blink or look away; he just waits for what Louis is going to do next.

Slowly, Louis reaches for his phone and the artist’s eyes go wide as he releases it from his grip. His lips start to turn up in a smile and the Louis watching the clip feels his heart tighten in his chest as a brief flash of happiness passes over the artist’s face and it’s obvious that in that moment, the artist thought Louis was actually going to give in to his demands.

The Louis onscreen closes his eyes and then he speaks.

“Zee… I-I can’t –”

“Get out.”

In one quick movement, the artist shoves Louis to the side and thrusts open the door, roughly pushing Louis into the hallway outside his flat. He picks up Louis’ satchel and shoes and throws them, Louis’ shoes bouncing down the stairs, his bag crashing at the top of the landing and rolling down two or three steps before stopping unceremoniously near the top of the stairwell.

“By the way, I’m working your wedding, Louis,” the artist sneers. “Better hope I don’t fuck it up for you.” He slams the door.

Louis collapses on the stairwell and lets out a low cry.

The screen fades to black.

As the lights come up in the Review Room and Louis’ chair rotates to face the justices, Louis drops his head. He feels ashamed and weak and absolutely mortified knowing that everyone in the room has just witnessed his humiliation. He’s a coward and a cheater and completely unworthy of anything good. He’s heartbroken and dejected and racked with guilt and it’s exactly how he felt as he sat there on the landing of the steps outside his lover’s flat all those years ago. He wills himself to take a deep breath. Then another, and then another still, yet he can’t seem to calm down, the tidal wave of conflicting emotions simply too overpowering.

Louis raises his head slightly and looks at Marcus helplessly. Marcus obviously knows he’s in distress, because he immediately pours a glass of water and quickly brings it over to him. Louis gulps it down, a few drops spilling over his lips. His hand trembles as he hands the glass back to him, Marcus looking him in the eyes and squeezing Louis’ shoulder in a gesture of comfort. He stands by Louis’ side for a minute or two, whispering to him that it will be okay, and then reluctantly returns to his seat at the advocate’s table at the Chief Justice’s request.

“Mr. Tomlinson, please take your time in collecting yourself. I know that this was a traumatic screening for you, and I encourage you to continue taking deep breaths. Your emotions will settle down if you continue the breathing exercises, I can assure you,” the Chief Justice says, her voice kind. Louis nods at her weakly.

Finally, after several minutes and two-dozen deep breaths have passed, Louis feels his body start to relax.

Ileana stands from the delegate’s table. “I only have a few questions for you, Louis. I don’t think it’s necessary to over-analyze what we just saw, the clip speaks for itself and I can tell that it affected you profoundly.”

Louis just stares at her dumbly.

“Are you able to answer some questions for me, or would you like a few more minutes?”

Louis clears his throat. “I... I can answer your questions,” he replies weakly.

“Okay, then.” Ileana looks at him for a moment and draws a deep breath of her own.

“In the last six months of your engagement to your wife, you were having an affair with the man we just saw in the clip, is that true, Louis?”

Louis feels tethered in shame and regret. He nods his head just once and then raises it, looking at Ileana directly when he replies. “I was. It was so wrong and I’m deeply sorry for cheating on Eleanor. She didn’t deserve it and it was probably the worst thing I ever did in my life. I regret it profoundly.”

“I’m not making a moral judgment, Louis,” Ileana replies. “In fact, I know that while there was no way you could undo the affair after the fact, you did try to make things right by your wife and your regret over being unfaithful to her was sincere.”

Louis’ eyes go wide in surprise. _There she goes again_ , he thinks to himself. _Being kind and compassionate to me while she’s trying to rip my world apart_. He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand Ileana Bachchan.

“Before we viewed the last clip, you were adamant that you didn’t know you were gay at the time your teammate Jack called you a derogatory, homophobic slur. You stated that you were uncertain of your sexuality at the time and yet, as we all just saw, the very evening before the encounter with Jack, you were at the flat of your lover and that lover, ‘Zee’, was _a man_ , Louis.” Ileana rests her elbow on her opposite hand and drags her fingers thoughtfully along her chin. “Do you still stand by your statement?”

“I-I… I don’t know.” Louis looks around the room franticly. “I swear to all of you, I didn’t realize that the clip with Chloe took place the day after my breakup with Zee. I spent the last six years of my life pushing the memory of that terrible day away and my timeline was all mixed up. I wasn’t trying to lie to the panel when I said I didn’t know I was gay. I just… This was all so long ago and it was a very confusing time,” he adds sadly.

“I believe you, Louis,” Ileana says, her voice sincere. “But you had to have remembered that you were engaged in an affair right up until a few weeks just before you were married.”

“I did… I just, I couldn’t let it in, you know? I was so ashamed for how I acted, for being unfaithful to Eleanor and hurting Zee the way that I did, that overtime I guess it was just easier to forget the affair ever happened.”

“I see,” Ileana replies. “Again, Louis, I want to stress to you, I’m not passing moral judgment on your behavior regarding the affair, and certainly not on your sexuality.”

Louis braces himself as Ileana continues.

“So with that in mind, Louis, I ask you this simple question; were you in the love with the man we just saw in that clip? Were you in love with Zee, Louis?”

At first, Louis doesn’t answer; he just closes his eyes and takes another deep breath, the sadness that her simple question has stirred overwhelming. Finally, he steels himself and nods his head. “I was. I loved him very much.”

“Did you ever tell him?”

“No,” Louis answers quietly, but then he remembers something. “I didn’t tell him at the time, but I did a few years later. I went to him on the day that Eleanor and I split. I went to see him, to apologize for everything. I just wanted him to know that at the time we were together I was terrified of how I felt for him. He was the first person I ever loved in that way…” Louis adds, his voice trailing off.

“But by then it was too late, wasn’t it, Louis?”

Louis cringes as he remembers the artist’s reaction, how he was so cold and indifferent and in the end, cruel to Louis. When he had arrived at the artist’s flat, Louis had no expectation that they would get back together or that the artist would accept him back into his life; he just wanted to make things right between them. He wanted to tell the artist how wrong he had been and to apologize for never telling him he loved him when they were together, because he did love him and he knew withholding that truth was a terrible betrayal. He didn’t expect the artist to embrace him with open arms, but he certainly never expected him to mock him and throw him out of his flat, either. It was an utterly devastating and shameful encounter.

 _God, I’ve fucked up so many things_ , he thinks to himself.

Ileana turns to Louis and speaks. “You had love, Louis. It might not have been necessary for you to declare that love to the men on your football team and it certainly wasn’t necessary for you to out yourself when you weren’t ready to do so.” She draws in a deep breath and looks at Louis sadly as she continues, “But in that most private moment, when there were only two souls in the room and your love could have been kept sacred and safe; the man you loved asked you if you loved him back and you were too afraid to tell him you did. You were too afraid to accept the love that was given to you by the universe and you rejected it, Louis.”

Louis feels the tears pool in the corners of his eyes again and as Ileana finishes her argument, he rubs at them furiously, willing himself not to cry. “You rejected love because of fear, Louis. And that’s the greatest tragedy in the universe.” She looks to the justices then, adding quietly, “I have nothing further,” before taking her seat.

Louis drops his head in absolute shame and utter defeat. Ileana is right: he did have love and he did reject it. How will he ever be worthy of moving forward when he has proven himself to be such an absolute coward? Louis hears Marcus stand from the advocate’s table and walk over to him, but he doesn’t raise his head, he just stares numbly at his hands, which he clutches in a tight ball in his lap.

“Louis,” Marcus says, and Louis slowly raises his head. “Please tell this Review Room why you wanted to marry your fiancé, when you were obviously in love with someone else.”

Louis is completely taken aback. He expected Marcus to question him about the artist, but instead he’s bringing up Eleanor, a topic that is far easier for Louis to deal with in the moment. He feels overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Um…” he starts, faltering at first and then clearing his throat. “Well,” he continues, and as he speaks, his voice gains a little bit of confidence; he starts to sound a bit surer of himself. “I’d been with Eleanor for over half my life. I started dating her when I was twelve years old and we’d made a commitment. It was like… Every single milestone we shared together seemed to propel us into this destiny that we would be married.”

“How do you mean?” Marcus asks.

“Well… I mean every school dance we attended, every family party I escorted her to, the countless outings with our friends: all these events and episodes just seemed to seal our fate. I think I knew we would be married when we were named King and Queen of our school prom. It was like, there was this expectation on us that we were this perfect couple and we were going to be together forever. I honestly thought we would be,” he adds, his voice filled with regret.

“So when you first met this man, the man you were to fall in love with, ‘Zee’, what were your feelings toward him?”

Louis closes his eyes and considers the question Marcus has put forth. He certainly doesn’t want to bring up _how_ he met the artist, that would probably only make him look worse than he already does, but he needs to answer the question honestly so he focuses on exactly what Marcus asked and that alone.

“If he could hear me right now, he’d probably absolutely hate what I’m about to say, because people said this particular thing about him all the time and it always made him angry, but the truth is, in the beginning, I thought he was really mysterious.”

“Mysterious?”

“Yes. I mean, he could be quite reserved until you got to know him properly and he didn’t let many people in; he was very guarded and so the assumption was that he had deep dark secrets or summat. Plus, he was so bloody handsome and so people just put that label on him: that he was some sort of exotic, mysterious creature, when in fact, he could be very open and funny. He just didn’t share that side of himself to everyone.”

“But he shared it with you?”

“Eventually, yes.”

“When you met him, Louis, did you intend on pursuing a relationship with him?”

“No!” Louis answers honestly. He raises his hands and looks around the Review Room, first to Ileana and then to the justices. “I swear, I never intended for any of that to happen. I never would have gone out of my way to hurt Eleanor, or Zee for that matter, because eventually the entire affair caused nothing but hurt to everyone involved.”

“So how did it start, then?”

Louis looks at Marcus with wide eyes. He’s completely surprised that Marcus is getting so personal in his questioning, but he knows that Marcus wouldn’t ask such things if he wasn’t trying to make a point that could help Louis, so he sits up straight in his chair, draws in a deep breath and answers as honestly as he possibly can.

“The day I met him, he invited me to a club… A gay club, actually. I’d never been to one and I was so curious. I’d had feelings about men practically my entire life, but other than that kiss with Brian, I had never acted on any of them. I guess I always thought they would go away eventually if I ignored them long enough.” He laughs ruefully. “But of course, they didn’t. So I went to the club that night and I met him there and we just had so much fun. We danced and got piss drunk and at the end of the evening he kissed me and it was like… Well, it was like my whole world split in two. It was like the best and worst thing that could ever happen to me came crashing down all at once. The next day he sent me a text inviting me out again, but I ignored him. I ignored him for nearly three weeks, but finally I relented because I really did want to see him again.”

“And so you continued to see him after that?”

“I did. After our third or fourth night out together, I went home with him,” Louis says shyly. “It was the first time I’d ever been with a man and… Well, it was just a very big deal for me and after that night… After that night I always went to him when he called and eventually he didn’t have to call at all. I started going to him on my own.”

Louis swallows back a lump in his throat, but he’s surprised that he’s managing to stay so calm considering all the emotional drama he’s endured over the past couple of hours.

He looks at Ileana and then back to Marcus as he continues speaking. “I tried to tell myself that I was just enjoying a last hoorah before I got married. I kept promising myself that my relationship with Zee was just a fling, something I needed to do to get the attractions I felt for other men out of my system and then I could marry Eleanor and be a good husband to her.” He shakes his head and lets out a heavy sigh of regret. “Of course, my plan was absolutely ridiculous. I fell in love with Zee, and I fell hard, but I wasn’t anywhere near accepting that I could actually _have_ him, that we could be a couple. I was dedicated to what was expected of me; I was dedicated to marrying Eleanor.”

“You must have felt incredibly conflicted, Louis,” Marcus comments.

“I did. I might not have been madly _in_ love with Eleanor, but I did love her dearly with all my heart. She was a wonderful girl and she’d always been so patient and understanding with me. We were supposed to be married and have children and live in a big house and grow old and fat together. I’d been with her practically forever. I just… I didn’t even understand how I could be in love with someone other than Eleanor, much less a man.”

“So, despite the fact that you were planning your wedding to a woman, you engaged in an affair with a man?”

“I did,” Louis answers, a soft pink flush blooming on his cheeks.

“Louis, how did Zee treat you?”

“What?” Louis asks, once again caught off guard by Marcus’ questioning. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what was your relationship with Zee like? Was he kind to you? Did this man that you loved build you up? Did he make you feel good about yourself?”

“Erm… I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Louis answers, confused.

“What I’m getting at, Louis, is that in the clip just screened, we watched the man you were in love with sneer at you. He called you names like ‘coward’ and ‘pansy’ and ‘closet case’. He belittled the most intimate moments between the two of you that should have been sacred and loving and reduced them to nothing more than cheap sex acts. Was that a regular occurrence? Did he always speak to you like that? Did he make fun of you often?”

Louis feels like the wind has been knocked out of him, Marcus’ rapid fire questions at first confusing him and then making him angry. _How dare he speak about him that way_ , he thinks to himself, and he narrows his eyes at Marcus, wanting to defend the artist from Marcus’ accusatory words.

“Just what exactly are you implying, Marcus?” Louis asks, his tone harsh.

Marcus looks at Louis in total understanding, his face kind and his voice calm as he says, “Louis, you said yourself that you spent six years trying to forget that your relationship with Zee even happened and in doing so, you may have forgotten that things weren’t always perfect between the two of you. In fact, aside from the obvious stress of being engaged in a secret love affair, your relationship with Zee was far from happy, or healthy, for that matter.”

Louis’s mouth falls open in disbelief. He furrows his brow, his mind suddenly racing as he tries to digest Marcus’ words. He looks at Marcus and Marcus nods his head in response, as if encouraging Louis to actually _think_ about what he is saying. Louis allows a little bit of memory of his time with the artist to seep in. Sure, the artist could be a bit rude now and again, and Louis never liked when he called him names or made fun of him, but still…

“He was the first person I ever truly loved,” Louis answers, his voice no longer angry, but rather clouded in confusion as he considers the implication of Marcus’ words.

“And he loved you, Louis. There is no doubt about that. But just because the two of you loved each other, it doesn’t mean you were meant to be together forever. So, I’ll ask you the question again, Louis. How did Zee treat you?”

Louis blows out a heavy breath and contemplates Marcus’ question. He takes a moment to think beyond the passion and sexual chemistry and instead permits himself to acknowledge what it was like to spend time with Zee, outside of the bedroom.

“Um. He could be very loving and fun to be around, especially in the beginning. He could make me laugh so hard I would double over. We’d play FIFA and watch movies and sometimes just talk for hours, but… Um… after we’d been together a few months, things started to change.” Louis takes a deep breath, he cannot believe he’s allowing himself to remember all of this, that he’s letting himself even think about the artist in the context of a _relationship_ , much less consider what that relationship was actually like. He’d spent years reducing their time together to nothing more than flashes of memory that he would push out of his mind as soon as they appeared. It was just too painful to think of him beyond those simple terms.

“Change how?” Marcus asks, pulling Louis out of his thoughts.

“Um. He began to pressure me… about leaving Eleanor. The first time he brought it up I completely panicked and I knew that I was in too deep, so I stopped taking his calls and I stopped seeing him. But, I missed him… and after a few weeks I went back to him.” Louis’ voice is sad as he continues. “After that initial breakup, it wasn’t the same between us. He always got really angry with me when I had to leave after –” Louis cuts himself off, a flash of embarrassment coursing through his body. He clears his throat. “After one of our dates,” he continues, his voice quieter. “That’s about the time he started to call me names now and again. He’d make little jabs about me being closeted and he’d put me down, but he always told me that he loved me. I never doubted that. I honestly think he was just really frustrated with the whole situation, so he took it out on me. Most of the things he said to me that were mean, he said as a joke, anyway. It wasn’t always like it appeared in that last clip.”

“But even if he was joking, it still hurt you when he called you names or belittled you, didn’t it?”

“It did,” Louis answers and how could he have forgotten all of this? How could he have so easily buried the little microaggressions the artist regularly made toward him? He hated when the artist called him names like “closet case” or “fairy” and yet he tolerated it because he loved him and was desperate to hold on to him. The artist was the only person he could be his true self with, and he simply couldn’t afford to lose him.

 _Jesus. I really was a fucking coward_ , Louis thinks to himself.

Marcus looks at Louis and it’s almost as if he’s reading his mind when he says, “Louis, it can be very easy to forget and to forgive the things the people we love have done to hurt us; that’s the very nature of love… Forgiveness.”

Louis offers Marcus a nod in thanks.

Marcus then looks to Ileana before walking toward the justices. “I’m about to say something that might shock everyone in this Review Room.” He takes a long dramatic pause and then looks at each person in the room before continuing. “The delegate is right,” Marcus says and Louis draws in a gasp. “Louis Tomlinson denied love and it was a great tragedy that he didn’t allow himself to fully receive the gift the universe gave to him and it was also tragic that he withheld that gift from another person. These facts cannot be denied.”

Louis feels a heavy weight in his chest, but he knows that Marcus is on his side and so he looks to his advocate and tries to relax. Marcus continues, “But what the delegate left out of her argument was that the love Louis denied was far from perfect. It was a love born of confusion and shame and worst of all, the very man Louis was in love with eventually began to treat that gift – the greatest gift the universe has to offer – with disrespect. He wanted love on his _own_ terms, he tried to push Louis into making decisions he wasn’t prepared to make and when Louis wouldn’t throw away everything he’d spent his life working towards for him, his lover’s response was to make fun of him, to call him names and make him feel ashamed. He mocked the very love they shared! Love should never be dishonored in such a manner. Just as we all know that love should never be denied, it also should never be taken for granted.”

Marcus turns around then and strides across the room to stand beside Louis. “I’m not going to make excuses for my client,” he says and Louis looks at him, waiting for what Marcus will say next. “My client made a mistake when he denied the love he felt for another person, but that’s what human beings do; they make mistakes. Louis was fallible, but he was also utterly conflicted. He fell in love with a man while planning his own marriage to a woman. And not just _any_ woman, but a woman he’d grown up with and been committed to since childhood. There isn’t a person in this room who fully knows what he was going through during that time and to reduce his actions to one who simply passed on love out of cowardice or for selfish reasons is being unfair and cruel. My client made mistakes when it came to love, but ultimately, he was quite brave in how he lived his life.” Marcus turns and faces Louis fully then. “My client is a good man,” he says, looking Louis in the eyes. “He deserves to move forward to the next realm.” He turns back to the justices. “I have nothing further, your honors.”

Chief Justice Wen leans into the microphone and asks Ileana if she would like to make a closing statement. Surprisingly, she declines, stating that she more than aptly proved her arguments and, showing mercy on Louis, she adds that he’s already been through enough for one afternoon.

Marcus however, does not miss the opportunity to once again speak on Louis’ behalf. He stands from the advocate’s table and launches into his closing arguments and like he’s done during the previous sessions, he highlights Louis’ bravery while going through Ileana’s case point by point, countering every claim she made regarding Louis’ fear with a counterclaim that puts Louis in a most positive light. He talks about Louis’ valor in standing up for Chloe and even manages to argue that Louis was brave in having an affair with the artist, stating that it was the first real step Louis took in accepting his sexuality. It’s absolutely awe-inspiring to watch him speak and once again, as he has so many times before, Louis feels completely lucky to have Marcus on his side.

And yet, despite Marcus’ stellar performance, Louis feels wrenched. He’s emotionally drained, physically exhausted, and utterly spent. Most of all, he’s terrified that Marcus’ words won’t be enough, that the argument Ileana put forth: that Louis flippantly rejected love, will prove persuasive and turn the justices against him. He knows Marcus fought for him today and he knows that his counterargument against Ileana’s clip was strong, and that his closing statement was absolutely genius, but still, the wicked thought that has been bobbing to the surface over the past few days has once again returned and it’s crashing down over him now like the waves of an ocean storm, the sound of his worry ringing loud in his ears. In fact, it’s ringing louder than ever before.

_What if I get sent back?_

But now, Louis is terrified that it’s not even a question of “what if,” but more of a question of “when.” His mind races to the only thing that matters to him. His mind races to Harry. He wonders if he would even care about being sent back to Earth if he hadn’t spotted Harry in the offices of Diamond, Brown, Smith, & Wilson on his first full day of death. Would he have the same attitude that Rowan seems to have now: sad to leave his new friends, but ready for a fresh chance at life on Earth and actually looking forward to the opportunity to get that life right?

 _No_.

He _did_ spot Harry on that first day and Harry spotted him. They’re soul mates and destined to be together forever and Louis cannot fuck it all up because he was weak during his lifetime. He can’t just throw in the towel and give this all up without a fight because the only thing he’s certain of right now is that Harry is worth fighting for. Harry is worth everything. God, he wants nothing more than to be with Harry forever. He clears his throat and as the Chief Justice leans toward her microphone to close out the afternoon session, Louis musters his nerve and he speaks.

“Um. I’d like to say something,” Louis declares, his voice ringing out in the silence of the Review Room. He looks around the room, first to Marcus, who looks at him in surprise, his eyebrows slightly raised before he nods reassuringly and holds up his fist in their unofficial symbol of unity and strength.

Louis then turns to Ileana, who sits behind the delegate’s table, her arms neatly folded on the table’s surface. She looks at Louis curiously and when she doesn’t object and instead nods at him to go ahead, Louis has the sense that she’s giving him a chance to set things right. There is kindness in her eyes and Louis is grateful.

Finally, he looks to the justices and as he does, Chief Justice Wen speaks into the microphone.

“Please feel free, Mr. Tomlinson. This is your Review and you have every right to voice any concerns and to share with this panel how you are feeling.” She turns to her co-counselors, Justice Kelly and Justice Elliot who both nod in agreement. “We want to hear from you, Louis.”

Louis clears his throat and sits up straight in his chair. “I just want to say that I know that I made mistakes on Earth. I know that it was so wrong to deny the love I felt for another person because I was afraid. I… Well, in the long run, I’m not sure Zee was the right person for me, we had so many differences and we just…” suddenly Louis holds up his hands in acquiescence, “not that I’m trying to justify my actions or my fear or any of that!”

He takes a deep breath before continuing. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know that I was wrong in how I handled so many things on Earth and I’ve learned from that and I can do better. I have a chance now. I have someone… someone that I met here, on the other side of life.” He swallows and looks at the justices, his voice adamant. “I’ve met someone whom I love very much and I promise everyone in this Review Room that I would never take his love for granted. I would never be so foolish to reject love again, now that I have it and truly know how precious that gift is.”

He turns toward Ileana and his words are heartfelt when he says, “You haven’t met him, but his name is ‘Harry’ and I would never deny him my love, I promise you, Ileana. I’ve never known a love before like the love I feel for him and if you send me back to Earth, well… I wouldn’t have that love anymore and neither would he, and that would be a tragedy, just like you said. So please, just keep what I’m saying in mind. I’ve learned. I’m not afraid to love anymore. Just, please…” His voice trails off at the end, but he’s nonetheless proud of himself for making the statement, even if he did ramble a bit.

The Chief Justice smiles at Louis, “Thank you, Mr. Tomlinson. We’re always pleased when an Intake takes the initiative to speak up for himself. That was very brave.”

“Thank you,” Louis answers, and while he still feels worry heavy in his gut, maybe this day won’t be a total disaster after all.

The session finally comes to an end and the Chief Justice reminds those in attendance that there is only one Review session left before Louis’ fate will be decided.

“Mr. Tomlinson, after your last Review session tomorrow, my fellow justices and I will convene and make our final decision regarding your position in the universe. As you’re well aware, you’ll either be sent back to Earth to be born again in a new body, or you’ll be forwarded to the next realm and begin your process of advancement. In either case, this is your last full day in Judgment City and I strongly encourage you to make the most of it. Please don’t allow these proceedings to hamper any plans you may have or discourage you from enjoying any of our wonderful amenities.”

She takes a moment and looks back and forth between Marcus and Ileana, “Let’s all have a good night, shall we?” she says, and then closes out the session.

The three justices stand and exit the Review Room and after they’re gone, Louis returns to the advocate’s table to sit beside Marcus.

Ileana gathers her notes and straightens them on the tabletop before opening her briefcase and dropping them within. She snaps the case shut and then walks over to the advocate’s table, ignoring Marcus as she looks to Louis.

“I know today was very difficult and I sincerely commend you for speaking up for yourself, Louis. You should be very proud.” She looks to Marcus and lets out a heavy sigh, nodding her head slightly, “Marcus,” she says. Marcus looks at her carefully and then his lips turn up in a grudging smile and he nods his head in response. Ileana says nothing further, just marches past the two of them and exits the Review Room.

“This was a hard day,” Marcus says, turning to face Louis. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like utter shit,” Louis answers honestly. “I feel like the biggest fuck-up whoever lived and I’m embarrassed and humiliated and I’m not sure that I can handle another Review session.”

“You _can_ handle another session and you will,” Marcus states, his voice certain. “This is almost over, my friend, and I want you to know that I believe in you just as much today as I did on the day we first met: more so, even. You’ve proven yourself to be brave and strong. I know this afternoon was an emotionally draining and painful experience, but we’re almost at the finish line, and I need you to hold on.”

“I keep thinking about getting sent back to Earth, Marcus. I’m so terrified of that happening and I don’t –”

“Stop right there, Louis,” Marcus interjects. “I don’t even want you to entertain such thoughts. You absolutely have to stay positive. You cannot allow yourself to get bogged down with worry, because that will only bring on more negative energy and make it harder for you to do well tomorrow.”

“I just… I’m just so scared of having to leave Harry and not even just for myself, Marcus. What will it do to _him_ if I get sent back? He’s my soul mate and if I’m returned to Earth my memory of him – my memory of all of this – will be erased,” Louis says holding out his hands. He feels the bile returning to the back of his throat as he allows that thought to fully sink in. “I’ll be a newborn baby in some… some fucking pram somewhere on Earth and I won’t even know what he’s going through and he’ll be left with a broken heart and there will be nothing that anyone can do to fix it.”

“Louis, you’re making a lot of assumptions here. You have a strong case for advancement and while I cannot tell you what I’ll be presenting tomorrow, I can tell you that the clip I’ll be showcasing is your finest act of bravery. It’s very powerful and it should make you very proud.”

Louis’ mind races over the events of his life and he can’t think of anything he’s ever done that’s particularly brave. Harry, on the other hand, rescued his sister from a tree when he was a very small child, and when he was merely a teenager; Harry saved several of his classmates from a fire. Louis has never done anything remotely close to those feats. He’s never considered himself to be brave at all.

“Also, Louis, you have no idea what’s going on in Harry’s Review. You seem to have this idea that he’s ensured advancement, but the fact of the matter is that nobody is guaranteed to move forward in the universe. You might get sent back to Earth, Louis. But so might Harry.”

Louis’ eyes go wide. He’s never even considered the idea that Harry could be sent back to Earth to live another life. The concept doesn’t even seem remotely possible.

Marcus holds up his hands. “I’m not saying either of those things are going to happen, Louis. Sam is working just as hard for Harry as I am for you. But _I am_ trying to make you understand that nothing in this universe is a given. Things are not always what they seem and the decisions of the universe are not always set in stone.”

Marcus places his hand on Louis’ shoulder, his expression serious as he continues, “You need to relax, Louis. You need to be in the moment and you need to go see your boy and have the best night you’ve ever experienced with him. You deserve it, Louis, and so does he.”

“Okay, Marcus,” Louis says, blowing out a heavy sigh. “It’s so crazy. It’s only been a couple of hours since lunch and I already can’t wait to see him. He always makes me feel so much better about everything.” He runs his hand through his fringe, pushing it to the side. “I’m just so ready for all of this to be over.”

“I know you are, and it will be soon. Go see your boy, Louis. Love is the greatest gift. Now, more than ever, you need to embrace that.”

Louis gets up from the table and he leans over and gives Marcus a quick hug, he feels so grateful to have him by his side.

“Thanks, mate. For everything.”

Louis turns and walks out of the Review Room, looking forward to nothing more than seeing Harry, but he’s surprised to find that although the door to Harry’s Review Room is open and the room is empty, Harry is nowhere in sight. Harry isn’t waiting in the little space between their two Review Rooms like he usually does when his session ends first and he’s not in the long corridor that leads to the other rooms, or standing near the lifts, either.

_Where is he?_

A fresh wave of panic washes over Louis. He knows that the verdicts for the Reviews won’t be made until after their final sessions tomorrow morning, but Harry is in a good position and for a brief moment he worries that maybe Harry’s panel has simply sent him ahead to the next realm. Harry’s only looking at four days after all, and if all the laughter that Louis hears through the wall is any indication; Harry is a shoe-in for advancement.

 _But they wouldn’t send him early_ , Louis thinks. _I’m being ridiculous. Besides, Harry would never leave without saying goodbye to me; he just wouldn’t. Jesus, Tommo. Calm the fuck down!_

But Louis can’t calm the fuck down, because even though he knows the idea that Harry has already moved ahead is implausible, he feels absolutely frantic and he picks up his pace as he rushes through the corridor, ducking his head into every open Review Room he passes. He circles back and looks into Harry’s Review Room one more time as if he could possibly have missed spotting him there the first time he checked, and when Harry fails to materialize, a thought suddenly strikes him, _the loo_ , and he heads off in that direction. He approaches the restroom, completely distracted by his search, and is just about to barge through its door when it suddenly swings open from the inside and out strides a man that nearly knocks Louis over, their bodies briefly colliding. Louis jumps back, startled, and a soft yelp escapes his lips when he realizes that the man is Harry.

“Louis,” Harry says, his face lighting up in a sweet smile of recognition. Although he appears tired from the long day, he looks absolutely beautiful: his chestnut hair cascading over his shoulders in shiny ringlets and his eyes so green they practically glow. Louis is so in love his heart feels like it might shatter in his chest and after the miserable day he’s had, he wants nothing more than to give himself fully to the man before him.

He just feels so fucking emotional.

He’s wrung out and spent from the day’s Review, the afternoon session being especially brutal, and he knows that there is absolutely nothing that can possibly make him feel better right now than being held in Harry’s arms. Before Harry can utter another word, Louis throws his arms around him and squeezes him close, Harry hugging him tightly in return and both of them collapsing into the embrace.

Louis is still feeling keyed-up and anxious and the weight of Harry’s body pressed against his own is like a trigger that releases something uncontrollable in him and he’s shot with adrenaline and absolute _need_ , his whole being suddenly aching with desire. He starts walking forward then, forcing Harry to walk backwards into the restroom he’s just exited, Harry letting out a surprised squeak at Louis’ deft movements. Once inside, Louis takes a quick look around to make sure the room is empty and then he grabs Harry’s hand, practically yanking him to the furthest stall and pushing the door closed behind them. He latches the lock to the stall while Harry looks at him dumbfounded.

“Louis, what’s gotten into y –” Harry starts to ask before Louis cuts him off, practically lunging at him. He smashes his lips against Harry’s and kisses him like his very soul depends on it.

At first, Harry is still beneath him and Louis suspects that Harry is surprised by how aggressive he’s being, but then he feels Harry’s body relax and as he does so, Harry places one large hand on Louis’ back, the other on his waist and pulls their bodies close, both giving in fully to the kiss.

Harry’s lips part and Louis slips his tongue inside Harry’s mouth and he begins to kiss him even harder then: his lips opening and closing in repeated presses, his tongue licking over Harry’s in quick, flickering movements.

Louis places both hands on the front of Harry’s tupa and he grabs the material, yanking Harry’s body and turning him so that he’s pressed up against the sidewall of the stall and then he crowds in closer, the air between them kinetic. He glides his right hand downward, running it over Harry’s chest and belt until he’s reached Harry’s crotch. He presses his palm firmly against Harry’s clothed cock and squeezes gently before rubbing his hand in a circle, Harry letting out a loud groan that echoes throughout the entire restroom at Louis’ touch.

Louis’ movements are positively frantic, he’s so full of longing that when Harry pulls away and breaks their kiss, Louis doesn’t even wait until their lips are fully separated before moving in again, latching his mouth over Harry’s in his desire for _more, more, more_. He just needs so much and he’s completely overwhelmed with longing. It’s not even a conscious thought, but it’s like he’s suddenly very frightened that the minutes are ticking away and that their time together is fleeting and he only has a tiny window to show Harry exactly how much he loves him. He feels reckless and aching and he wants everything with Harry and he wants it _now_.

Harry’s head falls back against the wall of the loo and Louis starts to grip at the material of Harry’s tupa skirt, pulling the fabric upwards, desperate to get his hands on Harry’s flesh.

“Louis, wait,” Harry grunts, his voice broken and breathy as Louis paws at his tupa. He has the material bunched in his hand, his fingertips grazing along Harry’s thigh, when Harry moves his hands to Louis’ forearms and clutches Louis’ wrists, abruptly stilling his movements. Harry looks Louis in the eyes and they both stare at each other, panting heavily, and it’s obvious he knows Louis is in distress, the two already so attuned to one another they can practically read each other’s minds.

“Stop for a minute, okay? Please… Tell me, what’s going on, Lou? I can see that you’ve been crying and just… What happened, Louis? Please talk to me.”

Louis doesn’t know what’s overtaken to him; the only thing he knows for sure is that he is both terrified of losing everything that matters to him and aching for all that he fears he may lose.

 _Harry_.

His head falls on Harry’s chest and a low cry escapes his throat.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, dropping Harry’s skirt and then haphazardly smoothing his hand over the material.

Louis feels broken and embarrassed and confused, but most of all, he just _wants_ so much and it’s like every emotion in his body is fighting against each other and he’s absolutely out of control.

“I’m such a fucking arsehole, Harry,” he says, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I just love you so much. I… I don’t know why I’m acting like this.” He looks up at Harry then and for what must be the hundredth time today, he feels the tears begin to well in the corners of his eyes. “I’m so sorry, just… please. Please tell me you know that I love you, because I love you so much and I don’t think I could take it if you didn’t know that.”

“Louis!” Harry answers and he grips Louis’ shoulders, pressing his forehead against Louis’ own, little puffs of his breath ghosting over Louis’ lips. “Of course I know that you love me! Why would you ever doubt that?”

Louis huffs a bitter laugh as a single tear streams down his cheek. “I learned today that I’m a master at denying love, Harry. I’m a total failure when it comes to the greatest gift the universe has to offer. I reject love and I ruin everything and it’s the worst tragedy the universe will ever know.” He grabs the collar of Harry’s tupa, completely desperate. “I can accept that I was such a massive fuck-up on Earth, Harry, but I’d rather turn to dust than to fail you. I’d rather disappear into nothingness than to deny my love for you.”

Harry gasps in surprise. He pulls Louis close then, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug as he peppers kisses all over Louis’ face. “You’ve never failed me, Louis, and you never will. I know you love me,” he says, and he squeezes Louis so tight that Louis can hardly breathe. “I knew it from the minute we first saw each other.” He places his index finger beneath Louis’ chin then, forcing Louis to lift his head and meet his gaze. “‘I saw you and I fell in love’, remember, Louis?” Louis closes his eyes and then drops his head onto Harry’s shoulder, Harry tracing his fingers up and down Louis’ back in a soothing motion.

“Louis,” he whispers, but Louis doesn’t look up, he just burrows his face deeper against the dip between Harry’s neck and shoulder. “Tell me, love. Please,” Harry begs. “What happened today in your Review? What happened to make you so upset?”

Louis jerks his head back then, his eyes scanning Harry’s face, his voice pleading as he responds, “I can’t talk about it right now, Harry, okay? Please don’t ask me to. I don’t even want to think about it.”

Harry bites his bottom lip, “Listen, Louis. My Review this afternoon was – ”

“Harry, please!” Louis cries, his sharp voice loud and echoing against the marble walls and stainless steel fixtures of the restroom. “I don’t want to talk about our bloody Reviews.”

Harry’s lips curls downward and his brow furrows, a brief flash of hurt passing over his face.

“Oh shit! I didn’t mean to snap at you, Harry,” Louis cries. “I’m so sorry.”

He drops his head again, not even waiting to see if Harry’s okay, too caught up in aftershock of his own Review session and too anxious and scared to recognize that he actually hurt Harry’s feelings. The only thing he can recognize is the urge that courses through him, demanding to push everything having to do with his Review far away in favor of the one thing that matters: claiming Harry for his own, once and for all.

“Louis, I just think if we talked about it, it could help us both. During my session this afternoon –”

“Listen to me, Harry,” Louis says, cutting Harry off midsentence and this time completely failing to register Harry’s hurt expression. “Can we go back to your hotel? Now, I mean.”

“Wait… what?” Harry asks, and it’s evident that he’s utterly confused by Louis’ manic behavior.

“I don’t want to wait until tonight,” Louis says, as he pulls back the collar of Harry’s tupa and begins to kiss along his neck. Harry places his hands on Louis’ shoulders to force him back, but then Louis moves his hips forward, grinding his groin against Harry’s and eliciting a soft moan from him, his hands relaxing their hold.

“Lou, Please –” Harry starts to speak, his voice rough and conflicted, Louis once again cutting him off.

“I want to lay you out, Harry. I want to kiss you all over and I want to make love to you. I can’t wait any longer. Please, let’s just go back to your hotel right now, okay?”

“Louis… I... We should talk first,” Harry answers, his words faltering at the end as Louis continues to bite and lick at his sensitive skin. “This seems so rushed,” he murmurs, lifting his hand so that his fingertips ever so lightly cradle the back of Louis’ neck, his own neck stretching to the side to allow Louis greater purchase, the action in utter contrast to his words.

“We can talk all you want later, love. But first, let me just have my way with you, okay? I promise, I’m going to be so good to you, Harry.” He bites at the tender skin in the dip of Harry’s collarbone, Harry huffing out soft little breaths beneath him. “Gonna make you feel so good. I love you so much, Harry. God, I fucking want you.”

Louis threads his fingers through Harry’s curls and pulls, causing Harry to whine lowly and throw his head back. He bangs it against the wall of the stall, but he doesn’t even seem to notice because Louis’ lips have clamped onto the soft skin at the base of his ear and he’s biting and sucking and they’re both growing hard in their pants.

“I want that, Louis,” Harry groans as Louis once again pushes forward, his clothed dick rubbing against Harry’s, the friction maddening, but not nearly enough. Harry shakes his head then and it’s as if he’s trying to gain a semblance of control. He returns his hands to Louis’ shoulders and this time he pushes him more forcefully away, Louis looking up at him in total surprise.

“Listen, Louis,” Harry croaks, his voice hoarse, his breathing heavy. “I’ve got to meet Sam at 7 o’clock. By the time we get back to my hotel, we’ll have little more than an hour together before I’ll have to leave.” He slides his hands up Louis’ neck, using his thumbs to push Louis’ chin up to hold his gaze. “I don’t want our first time to be rushed. I want us to have the entire night together. I have something special that I want to do for you, Louis. Let’s just… let’s just meet at my hotel tonight at half eight, like we’ve planned. It will be perfect, I promise.”

Louis rolls his eyes upwards, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Don’t you want me, Harry?” he asks, his voice defeated.

“Louis! What’s gotten into you? Did you even hear a single word I just said? I want you more than anything; I just don’t want us to have to rush is all. I love you so much, Louis.”

Harry pulls Louis into another tight hug then and Louis rests his head on his shoulder. He doesn’t know why he’s behaving this way, other than the fact that his fucking Review has rendered him completely rattled and unable to control all the conflicting emotions that have continued to stew since his last session, despite numerous deep breaths.

“I love you too, Harry. I’m so sorry I’m behaving this way,” Louis says, clearing his throat. “I know you want to talk and I’ll tell you about what happened today later, yeah? I just don’t want to think about my Review for the rest of the night. Is that okay, love?”

“Yeah. It’s okay, Louis,” Harry answers quietly.

They continue their embrace for several minutes, Harry holding Louis like he did earlier in the day after Louis’ morning session, until finally, Louis starts to relax a little.

“We should probably leave the toilet, Haz. It’s not the most romantic place in the world and I want you to get into a proper mindset for tonight,” Louis says, trying to lighten the mood.

He doesn’t even have to look up to know that Harry’s face has split into a smile, he hears his quiet chuckle and feels the warm press of Harry’s lips on his forehead.

“Any place is romantic with you, Louis,” Harry says, pulling back so Louis can get a good look at him. Harry bites his bottom lip and grins.

“Liar,” Louis answers, his tone teasing.

“I am not!” Harry defends. “Toilet stall… park bench…” He leans in then and nips at Louis’ earlobe. “My bed,” he adds, his breath warm on Louis’ neck. “I promise you, my bed is going to be the most romantic place of all, Louis. I’ve been fantasizing about what it will be like to finally feel you inside of me this entire day. ” Louis doesn’t know how he’s going to survive the next couple of hours.

“Shit, Harry. I’m trying to get myself under control. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t say things like that.” He reaches behind Harry’s back and pinches Harry’s bum, Harry squealing at his touch. He rests his forehead against Louis' and looks into his eyes.

“Better?” he asks.

“Better,” Louis agrees.

“Good. Let’s get out of here, then.”

Harry opens the door to the stall and pulls Louis along with him and they’re just approaching the main entrance to the restroom when Harry suddenly turns on his heels and grabs Louis around the waist, wrapping his free arm behind Louis’ back. In a move worthy of a classic Hollywood romance, he dips Louis backwards, planting a wet, passionate kiss on his lips before pulling him back upright and continuing out of the restroom as if nothing happened.

Louis sees fireworks in that moment and feels like little bright sparklers are shooting off beneath his skin. It’s truly magical and exactly what he needs.

They head to the lifts and once inside, both wave at the camera, offering their customary greeting to Ed, and as the lift makes its descent to the lobby, Harry offers suggestions as to what Louis can do to pass the time until they meet at Harry’s hotel.

“Don’t think you’ll have enough time to play footie.”

“Yeah, I’m not really up for that today anyway,” Louis replies, thinking about his afternoon session and his long-ago altercation with his former teammates, Jack and Noah.

“I’ve got it! You ought to go check out one of those spas Margaret is always talking about. She seems to really enjoy them, Lou. A massage or a steam in the sauna could be really relaxing.”

Louis tilts his head, considering.

“I used to get massages every two weeks on Earth; it was something I liked to do as a bit of a treat for myself,” he answers thoughtfully. “Had a set 7 PM appointment on the second and fourth Tuesday of every month. They really helped keep my muscles loose and limber for footie. Plus, a good massage is an amazing stress reliever, Harry.”

“Well. There you have it! I’m sure Donald can arrange for you to get a massage and you’d still make it to mine by 8:30.”

“Harry, do you want to know what I did after every single massage I had during my lifetime?”

“What?” Harry asks. He pulls Louis close to his side and smiles, his dimple popping on his cheek as he raises his eyebrow suggestively. “Did you do something dirty, Louis?” Louis grins and lightly pecks Harry on the lips.

“Nope,” he answers, matter-of-factly. “I would go home straight away, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed. I was usually fast asleep within the hour. A good massage has always left me absolutely knackered. They’re like the ultimate sleeping pill for me, really.” He can’t help but smile mischievously, his voice teasing as he continues, “I bet the massages here are positively wonderful and even more relaxing than the ones I had on Earth. I’ll have Donald arrange one as soon as I – ”

“Don’t you dare!” Harry interjects. “In fact, I don’t want you even thinking about a massage or any relaxing activity at all, Louis. You should probably go do jumping jacks or run a marathon, something along those lines.” Louis is unable to suppress a giggle.

“Actually, Haz, I think I might go for a swim, then grab something light to eat. I’ve got a very special date this evening, so I’ll need to get back to my room early so I can fix my quiff and pick out my best tupa.”

“You could wear your footie tupa,” Harry suggests, and although he’s joking, Louis knows Harry wouldn’t mind if Louis wore that ridiculous porn star kit every day until the end of time. “I’m really excited for you to come over to mine, Lou. I wish I didn’t have to go this bloody meeting.”

“How very dare Sam expect your position in the universe to take precedence over your sex life.”

“The nerve,” Harry agrees, tickling Louis beneath his ribs and causing him to burst out laughing as he attempts to squirm away.

The lift arrives in the lobby then and Louis and Harry walk out front and wait for the trams to take them to their respective hotels.

“It feels so strange not going together,” Harry comments as the blue tram pulls up and parks. Louis’ body tenses at Harry’s words, but he forces himself to push the worry out of his mind. Harry is talking about the trams that will take them back to their hotels, not the luxury trains that transport New Residents out of Judgment City and into the next realm.

“Where moving forward together,” he whispers under his breath, trying to reassure himself. His voice is so quiet that he’s surprised when Harry wraps his arms around him from behind, kissing Louis’ neck and stating emphatically, “We are, Louis. I promise you, we are.”

 

 


	16. The Date

Louis arrives back to his room and calls the front desk, asking for pair of swim trunks for the pool. Before he’s even had time to kick off his shoes and properly unwind from his day, there is a knock on his door and a person he doesn’t recognize is delivering the trunks and an oversize beach towel to him.

“Where’s Donald?” Louis wonders after thanking the woman who hands him his swim gear.

“Oh. Um. He took the afternoon off. He’ll be back on duty tomorrow, sir. In the meantime, my name is Kate and I’ll be happy to assist you with anything you need.”

“Took the afternoon off? Well good for him!” Louis muses. Kate just stares at him before smiling awkwardly.

“Yes, well… Just ring the front desk if you need anything and I’ll take care of it straight away,” she replies and then scurries off as quickly as she arrived.

Louis only swims a dozen laps or so before deciding to call it quits. He’s still feeling restless and conflicted from his Review and really all he wants to do is wait out the clock until he can go see Harry again. He climbs out of the lap pool and dries off, deciding that he’ll order up some room service and kill the next couple hours watching telly, too excited for his special date with Harry to concentrate on anything else. He’s wrapped in a towel and padding across The Regency lobby, making his way to the lifts when he sees a familiar face walking through the hotel’s main entrance.

Donald.

Louis jogs over to him.

“Hey mate!” Louis says, extending his hand and then pulling Donald into a quick hug. “Heard you were taking the day off. Good on you!” he enthuses.

Donald smiles at him sheepishly. Louis is surprised he even recognizes him; Donald looks completely different out of his concierge uniform and dressed in casual attire. He wears dark denim jeans and a white pullover jumper, simple white trainers on his feet. His fringe hangs loosely over his forehead in contrast to the way he typically wears it slick backed and gelled in place when he’s working. But the biggest difference in Donald’s appearance is more difficult to pinpoint. In fact, it doesn’t really have to do with his appearance at all, but rather, the way he carries himself. He looks… unhappy.

“So good to see you, Louis,” Donald answers, his voice warm, but the aura of sadness nonetheless present.

Just then, a concierge that Louis recognizes from around the hotel approaches and pats Donald on the shoulder. His nametag reads, “Patrick”.

“How are you doing today, friend?” Patrick asks, his voice concerned.

“I’m good, Patrick,” Donald answers, forcing a smile. “Just got back from a walk. It’s a beautiful day. I always enjoy my strolls around Judgment City.”

Louis is not sure what is going on between Donald and Patrick, but he feels quite certain Donald is trying to change the subject.

Patrick leans in. “You’re in my thoughts,” he whispers under his breath, but Louis hears him clearly. Patrick nods and smiles at Louis and then turns and walks away.

“Donald, what’s going on?” Louis asks. “Is everything okay, mate?”

“Oh, everything is fine, Louis. Same as it ever was,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “How has your day been?”

“Bloody awful,” Louis answers without missing a beat. Donald huffs a soft laugh. He nods his head, seeming to commiserate.

“Well, if I’m being honest, my day’s been bloody awful, too, Louis.”

A thought strikes Louis then and he has only the best intensions when he asks, “Well then, in honor of ‘bloody awful days’, let’s share a pint, yeah?” Donald’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Really? You’d like to have a drink with me?” he asks, his voice touched.

“Of course! We’re friends aren’t we? I’m meeting Harry at half eight, but it’s not even six, yet. We’ll have plenty of time to grab a bite and share a couple pints before I need to leave.”

Louis’ mind flickers to all the times he and Liam shared pints after a rough day of work, or when one of them suffered a personal setback or broken heart. He misses his best mate and the camaraderie they shared. “After the day I’ve had, I could really use a pint with a friend,” he adds softly.

“Well, I’d be honored, Louis. There’s actually a wonderful little pub right here in the hotel if that would be alright?”

“Yeah, sure! I read about that place in the hotel guide and have been meaning to try it. I’ll just run up to my room and shower and I’ll meet you back here in the lobby in say...” he grabs Donald’s wrist and looks at his watch. “Twenty minutes?”

“Twenty minutes,” Donald confirms. He clears his throat. “Thank you, Louis.”

“Thanks for what, mate?”

“Just. Just, thank you,” Donald replies. Louis slaps him on the shoulder.

“Trust me. You’re doing me the favor,” Louis says with a wink.

He heads for the lifts then and when he returns to his room he makes an immediate beeline for the shower. He scrubs his entire body from head to toe, washes his hair and then stands beneath the pulsating spray, allowing the hot water to ease the tension in his neck and shoulders. He only has a little less than two and a half hours and then he’ll be back in Harry’s arms and he’ll finally know what it’s like to have _all_ of him.

“We’re going to make love,” he singsongs aloud, splashing the water with his hands and doing a little happy dance. His face splits into a wide grin then, because he still can’t believe how comfortable he has become at reciting such a sappy sentiment. He’s so desperately in love it’s ridiculous and despite the positively miserable morning and afternoon Review sessions he endured and the worry that he can’t quite seem to fully shake, Louis has never felt more excited and ready for anything in his entire life… Or death.

After he’s showered, shaved, and dried off, Louis stands completely nude in front of the sink, staring into the mirror as he dabs on cologne and then scrubs his teeth, all the while trying to decide how to wear his hair. He considers a quiff, but then opts to style his fringe to the side, spiking the ends a bit like he did when he was a young man in his early twenties.

He’s pleased that at thirty years, he can still easily pull off the look and he hopes that Harry will like it.

 _Harry_.

Louis rests his palms on the bathroom counter and momentarily gets lost in thought. He imagines Harry reclined on his bed, his head resting on a pillow, his hair fanned out so that his loose, chestnut curls create a halo around his beautiful face. Louis thinks of Harry’s perfect pink lips and how soft they always feel against his own. Tonight, he is going to kiss every inch of Harry’s body. He’s going to worship his creamy, tattooed skin and he’s going to press into him so slowly that Harry will beg for more, their bodies finally becoming one.

Louis can feel his blood flowing to his crotch, his cock suddenly coming to life.

 _Jesus Christ, Tommo. Get a hold of yourself_.

He really doesn’t want to have a hard-on for his dinner with Donald, so he reluctantly pushes the thoughts of Harry’s lithe naked body out of his mind and hurries to get dressed, donning a fresh tupa and pants and sliding his watch around his wrist before slipping on his shoes. He’s so ready for his evening with Harry that he’s almost beside himself. As he leaves his hotel room and heads down the hallway to the lifts, he thinks to himself that a pint and a light snack with Donald will be exactly what he needs to take the edge off so he can fully relax and be completely in the moment with the man he loves.

 

*****

 

Ten minutes later, Louis is seated across from Donald in a small booth in the hotel pub. The pub itself is reminiscent of the local Louis used to frequent with Liam; it’s interior featuring a long polished wooden bar with hand-carved ornamentation and high-backed stools. A series of four-person booths run along the side and back of the pub and the walls are covered in coats of amour and flags from the UK and the rest of the world. For the first time all day, Louis feels completely at ease.

“It’s strange how much this place feels like home,” he says and Donald nods in understanding.

“We really do try to make Judgment City as close to Earth as possible. The majority of Intakes take great comfort in things that are familiar.”

Just then, the barkeep approaches and deposits two, frosty pints of beer in front of Louis and Donald, placing them on thick coasters that rest on the table and bear _The Regency_ logo.

“Donald. So good to see you out today, mate,” the barkeep says and then he looks to Louis and smiles and Louis could swear he reads gratitude on the barkeep’s face.

“Thanks, Mitchell,” Donald answers and then introduces him to Louis, the two men shaking hands across the table.

“Are you hungry, Louis? Can I bring you something to eat?” Mitchell asks.

“Something light would be great. Do you have prawn sandwiches here?”

“Do we have prawn sandwiches?” Mitchell repeats and he places his hand on his heart as if offended. “We have the best prawn sandwiches in Judgment City! I’ll bring you one straight away with a side of crisps.” He looks to Donald, his tone a bit gentler when he asks, “And for you, Donald? I can bring you anything you like, mate.”

Donald takes a long sip of his beer. “Maybe just some mullets to snack on,” he answers. “I’m not very hungry.”

Mitchell nods in understanding and while Louis is curious to know exactly what has upset Donald and why people seem to be treating him with kid gloves, he doesn’t pry. He knows what it’s like to _not_ want to talk about something because he feels that very way about his own Review.

“It was kind of you to ask me to join you for a pint, Louis. I’m not much of a drinker, but when you invited me, I realized how much I might enjoy one tonight.” He picks up his beer and takes another huge swig, the pint already half empty.

Louis smiles and picks up his own glass, “Well, here’s to better days,” he says and he clinks his glass against Donald’s, the two men saying “Cheers,” in unison and then taking a drink from their pints. Louis closes his eyes, momentarily lost in the perfectly crafted flavor of the ice-cold brew. “If they had beer like this on Earth, I don’t think I’d ever leave the pub,” he jokes.

Donald smiles in agreement and then drains his glass. He looks over to Mitchell and nods and before Louis knows what is happening, Mitchell is back at their table with two fresh pints and two shot glasses filled with an amber liquid.

“Whoa!” Louis says, raising his hands and laughing. “I’ve barely made a dent in my first pint. I’m not quite ready for another and I don’t think I’m up for shots tonight.”

Louis really doesn’t want to drink more than a pint or two, because he wants to be completely sober and present for his night with Harry. The very last thing he wants to do is to throw back shots and get drunk; that will ruin everything. He leans over and sniffs the glass, the biting smell of whiskey filling his nostrils. “That smells right potent,” he grimaces

Mitchell grins at him. “No pressure, Louis. I just thought you gents might enjoy a shot, but you’re under no obligation.” He points at the small glass and as he walks away adds, “If you change your mind, it’ll be waiting for you.”

While they wait for their food, Louis and Donald make comfortable small talk, Louis sharing some antidotes about his life on Earth and Donald telling him a hilarious story about his first week working as a concierge and a particularly demanding Intake who slept three full days upon arrival at The Regency and then proceeded to run Donald ragged during his entire stay.

From the tone of Donald’s voice and the way he is telling his story, Louis can tell that he is starting to relax. His mood is lighter and he doesn’t seem as down as he appeared to be when Louis first met up with him in the hotel lobby.

Louis is still nursing his first pint of beer and Donald has nearly finished his second when the food arrives. Mitchell sets Louis’ plate before him and Louis lets out a surprised laugh because it’s by far the biggest prawn sandwich he’s ever seen and it looks absolutely incredible. It’s served with a heaping pile of crisps and a large dill pickle spear and Louis cannot wait to eat every last bite. Mitchell then places a bowl of the bright orange mullets that Louis remembers Marcus munching on after their golf outing in front of Donald. Donald doesn’t even give the gelatinous pellets a second glance, he just picks up his pint and takes another huge sip, finishing the beer and handing the empty glass to Mitchell.

“You might want to slow down, Donald,” Mitchell cautions. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink an entire beer and you’ve already had two – ”

“I’m fine, Mitchell,” Donald answers sharply, cutting him off. His tone is apologetic when he adds, “I just want to enjoy a few drinks tonight and take my mind of things, okay?”

Louis can read a flash of sadness on Mitchell’s face, but he simply nods at Donald and pats his shoulder. “Sure, mate. I’ll get you another one straight away.”

Donald looks back to Louis then, “So Louis, what we were talking about?”

For a moment, Louis says nothing, his surprise at the way Donald snapped at his friend clouding his thoughts. Something is upsetting Donald deeply, and Louis feels quite certain that if Donald keeps drinking the way he is now, he’ll probably find out what that something is, soon enough.

“Um…” he starts. “You were telling me about when you started your job at The Regency,” he answers, and then a thought suddenly occurs to him. “Hey! Harry told me you were at Sam’s party the other night.”

He picks up his sandwich and takes a bite and is momentarily distracted because he doesn’t think he’s ever tasted a more perfect sandwich in the whole of his existence. The prawns are plump and sweet, the mayonnaise having just the right amount of tang and the bread the exact balance of soft and dense. “Utterly amazing,” he mumbles, shoving another bite into his mouth. He points to Donald’s bowl of mullets. “I swear, Donald, I will never understand how you Residents gave up Earth food for what’s in that bowl.” He takes another huge bite of his sandwich and when he finishes chewing adds, “I don’t care how much of my brain I use, I will _never_ reject a sandwich this perfect.” Donald laughs and scoops up a small handful mullets from the bowl, tossing them into his mouth.

“Trust me, Louis,” he says as he chews, washing the mullets down with the fresh beer Mitchell has just delivered, “Resident food is delicious. Once you advance, it’s only a matter of time before you begin to crave flavors that are more complex.” Louis detects the tiniest hint of a slur in Donald’s words, the two plus pints definitely having an effect on him.

“I don’t know about that,” Louis counters as he picks up a couple of the homemade crisps, the salty crunch of the paper-thin slices of deep fried potato the perfect counter to the juicy prawns. “This food is absolutely amazing.” He swallows the crisps and then returns to their original topic. “So, back to what we were talking about. Harry said he spoke to you at Sam’s party and that you and Sam were longtime friends?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Donald answers. He points at the second pint of beer that Mitchell brought for Louis. “Do you mind?” he asks, and Louis nods for him to go ahead, all the while trying to hide the shocked expression on his face that Donald has just chugged the beer that Mitchell delivered mere minutes earlier.

Donald reaches over and picks the pint up, moving his own empty glass off his coaster and sliding the full pint in its place. Louis waves to Mitchell then and when he arrives at the table, Louis orders two large glasses of ice water for him and Donald. He doesn’t want to tell Donald he’s drinking too much or too fast – the man literally uses forty-eight percent more of his brain than does Louis – but still, it wouldn’t hurt to encourage him to drink some water to balance out the alcohol.

“I’ve known Sam practically forever, we used to work together,” Donald continues.

“Harry said you used to be a delegate?” Louis questions. Donald nods his head and smiles.

“Yes, I was. So was Sam, but she switched over to advocacy about ninety years ago, not long after I left and became a concierge.” Louis’ eyes widen in surprise, the endless longevity of death, never ceasing to amaze him.

“Has Sam worked with Marcus the entire time? Since she switched from being a delegate to an advocate, I mean.”

“Oh yes! Marcus asked Sam to join his firm as soon as she left the delegacy. All the partners and associates at Marcus’ firm are absolutely tops in their field. They’re known for taking on the most challenging cases and handling clients who are right on the cusp,” Donald replies and then he shakes his head in amusement as if something particularly funny has just struck him. “Speaking of clients, Sam was positively floored the first time she saw you with Harry, Louis,” he says casually, popping a few more mullets into his mouth and then taking another long sip of beer.

Louis’ shoulders tense and he feels the hint of unease settling under his skin. He slowly puts down his sandwich, looking at Donald carefully.

“Why was she floored when she saw me with Harry?” he asks, utterly confused and also nervous to hear the answer.

Donald’s eyes go wide and he slaps his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“Oh, shit!” he groans. “I didn’t mean to say that!” He looks down at the pint glass in his hand and sets it on the table and pushes it away. “I tend to ramble when I drink. Please forgive me, Louis… and for the cursing.”

The hairs prickle on the back of Louis’ neck and he starts to feel the same foreboding that something bad is about to happen that he did when Ileana was questioning him during his afternoon session. He needs to know what Donald is talking about and he’s just about to ask when two women enter the pub and wave at their table. They’re not wearing Regency uniforms, but Louis recognizes them immediately as workers who tend the front desk. They approach the table, the first telling Donald how glad they are to see him out on this day and the second leaning over to hug him and patting his hand sympathetically.

Louis has no idea what is going on with Donald and the worst part is that he is almost certain that he doesn’t want to know. Yet, a part of him is suddenly desperate to know everything. Not for the first time today, he feels completely conflicted. He looks at his wristwatch and it’s only a few minutes past seven and so Harry is just starting his meeting with Sam. He has plenty of time before he has to leave, but maybe he should excuse himself now and just go back to his hotel room and wait for their date, because he’s starting to feel very worried, the panic that has been festering within him all day long, once again returning to the surface.

Donald introduces Louis to the women and they all chat for a minute or so before the ladies head off to their own booth near the back of the pub, but before they leave, Sally, the brunette, leans over and whispers in Louis’ ear, actually thanking him for taking Donald out.

“Donald,” Louis says, his voice unsure. “Um… Do those women think you and I are on a date?”

Louis hopes the answer is “yes” because that would be something funny he and Donald could laugh over together and it would be far better than any of the terrible scenarios that are starting to formulate in Louis’ head. He’s worried by the way Donald is drinking so heavily and how sad he seems to be, and he’s especially uneasy over what Donald said about Sam being floored when she first saw Louis with Harry. He’s just so anxious and it’s a very unwelcome feeling.

Donald throws his head back and cackles loudly.

“Heavens, no!” Donald replies, his body racked with laughter. Louis senses Donald’s reaction has more to do with the alcohol than actual amusement, but still, he can’t help but feel a bit offended that Donald finds the concept so hilarious. Donald’s laughter dies out and he must read the irritated expression on Louis’ face because he leans over and says with a chuckle, “Listen, Louis. Any man would be lucky to have you, and your Harry _is_ that lucky man. The two of you are soul mates and you’re both so…” he lets out a heavy sigh and drags the pint he’d pushed away back toward himself, lifting it up and taking a sip. “You’re both so perfect for each other. It’s a wonderful gift the universe has given the two of you.”

Despite Donald’s kind words, Louis still feels worried, because it’s like all of the joy has been sucked out of Donald’s body and he looks so sad. He picks up one of the shot glasses full of whisky and tosses it back, and this time, Louis can’t conceal the surprised look on his face, because never in a million years would he have suspected that Donald, who is always so proper and put-together, would get pissed in front of him.

“Listen, mate, maybe you should have some water,” Louis suggest, lifting up one of the water glasses and handing it to him. Donald nods and takes a gulp, spilling a bit down the front of his jumper. There’s no doubt about it now; Donald is officially drunk.

“You and Harry are so good together, Louis. Do you know what a miracle it is to find your soul mate?”

“I think I do,” Louis answers. “I love Harry so much. I can’t imagine what the Afterlife would be like without him.”

“Horrible,” Donald mumbles and he scrubs his hand over his face. Louis can tell that Donald’s eyes are starting to water.

“Mate, are you okay?” Louis asks. “I know what it’s like to not want to talk about something, but if you want to share, I’m happy to listen.”

“You’re a good friend, Louis,” Donald replies and then changes the subject completely, returning to the topic of Sam’s party. “I was surprised to see Harry at Sam’s party, Louis. Intakes usually aren’t invited to such events, but Sam thinks quite highly of him.” Donald leans forward then, his elbow jostling his pint glass and beer sloshing over the sides. Louis moves quickly and manages to keep the glass upright. Donald doesn’t seem to notice; he just continues talking as if nothing happened. “I don’t really know much about his Review because we’re strictly forbidden to discuss them outside the Review Room or with anyone other than one’s own clients, but I can tell you that from what Sam’s told me about his life on Earth, Harry was very true to himself when he was alive, and that’s a very brave thing.”

Louis feels a rush of relief at Donald’s words. He’s known practically from the start that Harry is in a good position to move forward, and Marcus had assured him as much on their day at the golf course, but still, it’s nice to hear again. Louis wants everything for Harry and he doesn’t think he could be jealous of him if he tried.

“I’m so glad,” he answers, his voice sincere. He looks at Donald carefully then and decides to take a chance and ask him the question that is most bothering him in the moment. “Um, Donald,” he starts, trying to make his tone sound light and to mask his worry. “What did you mean when you said Sam was floored to see me with Harry. Does she think he and I are wrong for each other?”

“Oh no!” Donald replies. “Nothing like that! You and Harry are soul mates; anyone can see it. “It’s just that… Well… I really shouldn’t say.”

“Please, Donald. Just tell me, I promise I won’t get upset,” Louis asks, trying to keep the pleading tone out of his voice. “I just really need to know.”

Donald takes another swig of his beer. He’s finished nearly four pints and a shot of whisky, and Louis still hasn’t finished his first. He doesn’t envy Donald the hangover he’ll surely suffer in the morning.

“Well, I really shouldn’t tell you this,” Donald starts, his words slurred. “But, Sam recognized you. I mean, obviously you look totally different this time around, but most Residents can easily identify people they’ve met in this realm or known on Earth, even if their body is in a completely different form from when they initially knew them.”

“Sam and I knew each other before I came here?” Louis asks, his mind racing.

“Yes, she was your advocate,” Donald answers, then scratches his head. He reaches for his beer and Louis pushes his water glass toward him and Donald smiles at the gesture, taking a swig of the water instead.

“But Marcus is my advocate,” Louis replies, confusion and worry coloring his words.

“Yes, Marcus is your advocate _now_ , but Sam was your advocate after the lifetime you lived _before_ you were born as Louis Tomlinson.” Donald drops his head. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, Louis. But, I suppose you might have seen that particular previous self if you’d attended your _Past Lives Screening_ , so I think it’s okay.”

“I’m sure it’s okay, mate,” Louis answers, his voice barely above a whisper. He clears his throat. “So, Sam defended me during my last Review, is that what you mean?”

“Yes!” Donald exclaims with a laugh. He slams his fists down on the table, causing the whole surface to rattle and shake. Louis looks around and notices that the two women who Donald introduced him to earlier are staring, sad expressions painted on their faces. “In fact, the two of you got on quite well. It wasn’t romantic or anything like that, but she considered you a friend and she worked really hard for you to move forward.” Donald puffs his cheeks and blows a dramatic breath and adds, “But in the end, your Review panel sent you back to Earth.”

Louis feels like the walls are crumbling down around him, Donald’s words filling his whole body with dread. Realistically, Louis knows he failed Reviews in the past because he’s lived nearly twenty lifetimes and the end of every life on Earth is marked by a Review. But still, it’s like he’s suddenly intimately connected to his last failure, even though he has no memory of the person he even was when that Review occurred. The fact that he remembers nothing at all about it is almost as scary as the realization that Sam, who by all accounts is one of the best advocates in Judgment City, defended him and yet he still managed to fail his Review and get sent back to Earth. What if Marcus fares the same as Sam?

“But, I… I don’t remember working with Sam,” Louis replies, his voice shocked. “Outside of Harry, she’s an absolute stranger to me.”

“Of course she is,” Donald answers, his voice agitated. “Once an Intake returns to Earth, they don’t remember a single thing about their time in the Afterlife.” He looks down at his lap and rubs at his eyes. “The universe is a wonderful place, Louis, but there are certain aspects that can be so cruel… So very cruel.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, but he doesn’t want to know the answer. Louis Tomlinson does not want to know the answer to his question at all, but he just can’t help himself. He’s so shocked that Sam defended him during a previous lifetime and the fact that he doesn’t remember her just reaffirms something that Marcus told him during their conversation at the golf course. “If I get sent back to Earth, I won’t remember Harry when I return to the Afterlife,” Louis mutters. He doesn’t even realize he’s said it aloud until Donald reaches across the table and places his hand on top of Louis’.

“You won’t, that’s true,” Donald answers, his voice thick. He pats Louis’ hand a few times before withdrawing it and taking another swig of his pint. “And _that’s_ what I meant, Louis. Forgetting the Afterlife is a safeguard the universe has set up to ensure returning Intakes live an honest life on Earth, but it’s a devastating safeguard for soul mates left behind here…” Donald’s voice tapers off and then he clears his throat, sitting up straight and declaring, “But Marcus is on your side, Louis, and he’s an amazing advocate. Can’t believe he’s up against Ileana, but the universe works in mysterious ways.”

Louis is just about to ask Donald what he means, but then Donald snatches the shot glass Mitchell brought for Louis and drinks it down, his free hand still clutching his pint.

“Donald!” Louis cries, “Please, mate! That’s your last one, okay? I’m worried about you. How will you even make it home tonight?”

“Well, I live on the third floor of this hotel, Louis, I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” Donald slurs. He looks over to Mitchell and raises the empty shot glass and Mitchell nods his head. Louis can’t believe Mitchell is going to serve Donald another drink, because Donald has gotten very loud and sloppy and it’s obvious to anyone with even a bit of common sense that he’s drunk. But then, to Louis’ relief, Mitchell comes over to the table with a cup of coffee and another glass of ice water, setting both down in front of Donald.

“I think you’ve had enough, mate,” Mitchell says. “I know today’s a tough day for you, but it’s time to switch to some coffee to clear your head.”

“Okay,” Donald mumbles, obviously not interested in putting up a fight. Donald raises his coffee mug then and Louis gets a whiff of the brew and it smells absolutely disgusting, the sickly sweet aroma so overpowering that he actually recoils.

“It’s Resident coffee, Louis,” Mitchell explains. “Tastes like sewer water to Intakes, but for those of us who use more of our brains, it’s absolutely delicious.” Louis has no idea how anyone could drink the cup of swill Mitchell just gave Donald, but he nods his head in understanding anyway. “Can I get you anything else, Louis? Would you like dessert or another pint?” Mitchell asks.

Louis doesn’t want anything else; his stomach now queasy like it was during his afternoon session. He pushes his plate away, half of the prawn sandwich left untouched.

“I’m good mate, thanks.”

Mitchell clears their plates and returns to the bar. Louis glances down at his watch and notes that it’s twenty till eight. He only has fifty minutes until he can see Harry and put this terrible day behind him. He was in a good mood after his swim and now… Well, now he isn’t fairing so well.

“I have a soul mate,” Donald offers, totally out of the blue. “The most beautiful woman you ever saw.”

“You have a soul mate?” Louis repeats, taken aback. He’s only known Donald for a few days, but for some reason he’s considered him to be a bit of a loner. “What’s her name, Donald? What’s she like?”

“Her name was ‘Jane’ when I knew her,” he answers quietly.

Louis feels the familiar disruption in his belly, his stomach churning and the painful burning sensation creeping up in the back of his throat. Donald is talking about his soul mate in the past tense. Louis feels like everything he is fighting for is falling apart right in front of him.

Absently, Donald picks up his now-empty pint glass and goes to take a drink but when he realizes all of the beer is gone, he sets the glass down hard on the table and takes a swig of his coffee instead. It’s certainly not enough to sober him up though, and when he continues talking his words sound more slurred than ever.

“Today’s my anniversary,” he says, raising his coffee mug in cheers. “That’s why everyone is being so nice to me. All of the people that work here in the hotel are my friends and they care about me. They know how difficult this day is for me.”

“Your anniversary?” Louis asks and he closes his eyes because he just wants this conversation to end. He feels like he’s opening some sort of Pandora’s box and whatever flies out of it is going to do him no good. In fact, he has a gut instinct that what he’s about to hear might very well cause him great harm.

“Yes, it’s been exactly one hundred fifty-six years to the day since I passed my Review.”

“Wow, Donald, that’s amazing. Happy Anniversary,” Louis says, although he’s certain that Donald’s anniversary is not a cause for celebration. “One hundred-fifty-six years,” Louis marvels. “You’ve been here a long time.”

“Yep,” Donald answers. “One hundred fifty-six years ago today I was declared worthy of the next realm.” He draws in a deep breath and his bottom lip starts to tremble and a tear slides down his cheek. “And one hundred fifty-six years ago today my sweet Jane was sent back to Earth.”

Louis is frozen. He can’t move, can’t think, and can barely breathe. He feels his heartbeat quicken in his chest, the sour bile now coating the inside of his mouth, his brow breaking out in a thin sheen of sweat. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and when that does no good, he takes another. Finally, he is able to speak, although his words come out choked and barely above a whisper.

“Donald,” Louis says, his extremities tingling, his body hot all over. “Your soul mate was sent back to Earth?”

Donald looks at Louis and doesn’t answer aloud, rather, he nods his head sadly and wipes at his tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Louis offers. “I can’t imagine what that was like for you.”

“It was the worst thing that could ever happen, Louis,” Donald mutters. He reaches across the table and grabs Louis’ pint. The glass is nearly empty, but that doesn’t stop Donald; he drinks down the last few drops anyway, all the while Louis sits there stupidly, not even trying to stop him.

“We were so happy, Louis,” Donald says, and he places his elbows on the table to support his head. “I can’t believe I was ever given a love like that. It was like we could read each other’s thoughts and we were just so… _connected_ to one another. We could barely stand to be apart, even just for the few hours of our Review sessions. We spent all of our free time with each other, laughing and sharing stories about our life on Earth, planning how we would spend eternity together. We made so many wonderful plans for our future, Louis.”

Donald draws in a shuddering breath. “Her lips were so soft and her kisses were the sweetest I’ve ever known.” He lets out a heavy sigh and laughs ruefully. “But then, she failed her Review and she was just taken from me! I barely had a chance to say goodbye before she was ushered off to her inn and she went to sleep and that was that.”

“She went to sleep?” Louis asks, his body buzzing and anxious. He knows he shouldn’t press, he knows Donald is vulnerable, but he can’t help himself because he _needs_ to know what happened to Donald’s soul mate; he needs to know what happened to Jane.

Donald looks at Louis and at first doesn’t say anything, he just picks up his coffee and stares into the cup, lost in the thought. He takes a reluctant sip and sets it back on the table. “That’s what happens when an Intake goes back to Earth: they suddenly feel very tired and they go to sleep and then they just…” He holds his hands in the air, contemplating for a moment before flicking out his fingers dramatically and saying, “Poof! They just disappear, Louis.”

Louis recoils, completely mortified. He cradles the top of his head in his hands and squeezes his brow. He feels sick, his stomach roiling and his head spinning as if he’s the one who is drunk and headed toward a hangover.

“Do you want to know something, Louis?” Donald asks. He leans across the table, his voice low as he shares his secret, his cheeks coloring a bright red as he speaks. “The evening before our cases were decided, we spent the whole night together. Jane gave herself to me and we were so in love and it’s just indescribable: the love we shared. That night, Louis… Well, that night was perfect and it was beautiful and it was just… _everything_.”

“Oh, Donald,” Louis replies, overwhelmed.

Donald lets out the softest cry, so low that Louis is sure he’s the only one who can hear it, but it’s so intense that Louis feels it throughout his own body. It’s a cry of utter desperation and heartbreak and it shakes Louis to the core.

“The justices sent her away from me, Louis. How could they do that?” A slow tears roll down Donald’s cheek and he picks up a napkin and blows his nose, drawing in a jagged breath. “We only had a few minutes to say goodbye and I promised her that I would wait for her forever. She was my soul mate,” Donald whispers, his words slurred.

“I’m so very sorry, Donald,” Louis offers weakly. He feels a throbbing pain in his chest at what Donald is suffering, the sorrow he is enduring so tangible, it tugs at Louis’ own heart and fills him with grief. He shakes his head, unsure of what to say or how to help his friend, and really, he doesn’t even know if he _can_ help Donald, because Donald is not describing a simple breakup with a former girlfriend; he’s describing being separated from his soul mate for all _eternity_. How could Louis even begin to offer him comfort, especially when the things Donald is telling him are filling Louis with absolute panic and making him more desperately worried about his own situation?

Louis’ mind goes to the only thing that matters. His mind goes to Harry.

Despite the fact that Marcus and Harry have both told Louis on numerous occasions that he needs to have a positive attitude, Louis is unable to stop his brain from whirring. He hates himself for thinking such a dreadful thought, but he can’t help but imagine Harry sitting in a pub somewhere one hundred fifty-six years in the future, getting piss drunk with a random Intake and crying over Louis. The thought of Harry ever suffering the way Donald is suffering now – and all because he loved Louis – is almost too much to bear. He feels the familiar stinging wetness prickle behind his eyes as he fights back the tears.

He can’t do this to Harry. He can’t hurt him in this way, but he fears it is already too late. His Review today did not go well. In fact, it was bloody terrible. If he gets sent back to Earth, Harry is going to experience the same, brokenhearted fate as Donald. Louis knows he will, because he knows how much Harry loves him.

Donald places his palms flat on the tabletop and then slowly curls his fingers inward so tight that his knuckles turn white. “After Jane was sent back to Earth, I went to the next realm and I worked very hard and studied, because I wanted to grow my brain. I wanted to become a delegate so that on the slim chance I should find her when she next came back to the Afterlife, I could work on her case and maybe make it a bit easier on her during her Review and then she could move forward. It wasn’t really an ethical plan as far as the universe is concerned, but I was so desperate to be with her that I did it anyway.”

“You became a delegate for Jane?” Louis asks quietly, and really, he doesn’t know why he keeps asking Donald all of these questions. Every answer Donald provides is worse than the one that came before and the insight they offer does nothing but fill Louis’ whole being with dread.

“I did. I loved her so much.” Donald sighs heavily. “I’ll never stop loving her,” he mumbles and then clears his throat. “Anyway, I became a delegate and I came back here and every day I poured over the files of the new Intakes, hoping that by some miracle Jane’s file would come across my desk.” He shakes his head and stares off into the distance completely lost in pain and memory. “The Earth is a huge place, Louis. She could have been born again anywhere. But for the most part a soul stays in the same general region for several life cycles. Souls don’t travel the universe alone and they tend to stick with those who are in their circle.” He looks back to Louis then. “That alone gave me a little bit of hope.”

“Life mates,” Louis says softly, remembering what Marcus told him about how he’ll see his family and the people he loves again, eventually.

“Yes! Life mates!” Donald repeats, his face lighting up momentarily before once again falling and turning sad. “Jane’s life mates must have still been traveling in the UK, because she was born into a body in Ireland and so she came back to Judgment City UK when her life once again ended.”

“She came back here? Donald, were you able to see her again?” Louis asks, praying for a happy ending to Donald’s story that he knows isn’t going to come.

“I did see her, yeah. She was older than she was when we were together, but not by much, only ten years or so.” Donald laughs ruefully. “She could have returned an old woman in her eighties or nineties, although, honestly if she did, I would have still found a way to at least be her friend, I loved her so much. Besides, once a Resident starts using around ninety percent of their brain, most revert to the body they had in the prime of their life... sort of a reverse aging process, if you will. Of course, it can take millenniums to reach that level of brain power, but I would have waited,” Donald mutters his voice tapering off at the end.

Louis’ doesn’t even know how to process what Donald is saying to him, the information too much for his three-and-a-half-percent brain to handle, so he doesn’t try. Instead, against his better judgment, he asks Donald another question.

“Did she look the same, Donald?”

“No, Louis,” Donald replies, his voice sad. “She looked completely different; her hair was dark and her eyes were no longer the blue I knew, but rather a pretty hazel. She was much taller, too. But she was still my Jane, just the same, even though by then she was called ‘Rose’.

“Rose,” Louis repeats. His mouth suddenly feels very parched. He picks up his water glass and drinks it down, his hands shaking as he sets the empty glass back on the table. “Were you her delegate, Donald?” he asks, once again completely lost as to why he’s asking these questions and putting Donald and himself through all of this agony.

“No. Sam talked me out of it. She reminded me that I had taken an oath to the universe and that it wouldn’t be fair to the universe or to Jane, if I didn’t do my job properly. But I made a point of being in her advocate’s office building the first time Jane came in; I just had to see her again. Thirty-seven years had passed, but I loved her just as much as the day she was sent away from me.”

“Donald,” Louis starts, but Donald doesn’t let Louis speak, he just continues talking.

“She didn’t recognize me, Louis. She didn’t know me at all, but she was still so wonderful and kind, just like she was when we were together. I managed to befriend her and I even spent a day escorting her around the city and showing her the sites. I was so happy just to stand by her side; I thought my heart would burst. But I knew her memory of her last stay in the Afterlife had been completely stripped from her mind and along with that went her memory of me. She certainly had no idea she was my soul mate. But I reasoned that if I spent enough time with her, something would be unlocked and she’d just _remember_ how much she loved me – how much we loved each other – and then she’d be mine again.”

Louis closes his eyes for a moment. He can’t imagine what that must have been like for Donald: to wait thirty-seven years to see his soul mate again and then, when it finally happened, to realize that his soul mate had no memory of him or the love they shared. It had to have been agonizing and Donald must have suffered so greatly. By the way he’s acting now and by the brokenhearted expression on his face, it’s obvious that his suffering has never ended.

“Anyway, about halfway through her stay, I made plans to take her to dinner,” Donald says, pulling Louis out of his thoughts. His speech is still slurred, but there is a sense of clarity to his words, as if it wouldn’t matter how drunk Donald became, he would always be able to tell his story exactly how it happened.

 _He must have relived it in his mind thousands of times,_ Louis thinks.

“Donald, mate. We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. I know you’re upset and – “

“I decided I was going to tell her who I was,” Donald interrupts, cutting Louis off. “I was going to tell her about the time we spent together and the love we shared when we were both Intakes and how we were separated when she was sent back to Earth. I was going to tell her we were soul mates, Louis.” Donald takes a moment to collect himself, tears now streaming down his face. He grabs another napkin and wipes his eyes and then sighs heavily. “I didn’t figure I had anything to lose; I’d already lost everything when she was sent away from me the first time,” he says quietly.

“What happened?” Louis asks, but he doesn’t want to know the answer.

_For fucks sake, why do I keep asking these questions when I don’t want to know any of the answers?_

“Well, I arrived at her inn to pick her up and when I got there, she asked if I would mind if one of her new friends, a man named George, joined us. He… he was an Intake she had met after her first Review session and they had become close… Very close.”

“Shit, Donald,” Louis mutters. He doesn’t like where this story is going. He doesn’t like it one bit.

“So, George joined us for dinner and I knew right away that they were much more than friends. It was obvious they were in love. It was so painful to watch: _my_ soul mate holding hands with another man, the two of them whispering back and forth to one another, the way she looked at him with the love that she used to show to me. I-I couldn’t even make it through the meal, Louis. I made some excuse and left halfway through the service of the main course. I was out on the street, trying to hold back my tears, when I suddenly felt her arms around me. She had followed me out of the restaurant, Louis. She told me she was worried that I left so suddenly and she wanted to hug me goodbye.”

Louis cannot even respond; he just shakes his head, his heart heavy with sorrow for his friend.

“She told me how wonderful it was to meet me and how she felt like she’d always known me and for the tiniest moment, I had a little spark of hope that maybe she was starting to remember.” Donald wipes at his tears and smiles ruefully. “Of course, she wasn’t. She actually asked me what I thought of George and told me how happy she was to have fallen in love with someone on the other side of life.”

Louis swallows back the burning lump in his throat. His breathing is heavy and his eyes are watering.

“I told her the truth. I told her I thought George was a kind and decent man and that their love was a gift, and then I kissed her on the cheek and said ‘goodbye’. I loved her so much, Louis, I just wanted her to have love and to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me.” He shakes his head and bites at his bottom lip before adding, “I never saw her again after that. She left messages for me at my offices, but I never returned them. It was just too painful. Last I heard, she and George were married and are living in the next realm somewhere.”

“But Donald! She’s your soul mate! How could she fall in love with someone else? That makes no sense! Is George her soul mate, too?” Louis asks, his voice frantic.

“No!” Donald answers and slams his fists on the table. “I’m her _only_ soul mate, Louis! A person only has one soul mate and I’m hers and always will be until the end of time,” he cries angrily. “George is the man _Rose_ loves now, but it’s nothing like the love we shared when she was Jane. Nothing!”

Louis raises his hands, shocked by Donald’s sudden outburst. “I’m so sorry, Donald! I wasn’t trying to imply anything, I just don’t understand, is all.” He looks around and several people in the nearby booths and at the bar are staring at them. Mitchell looks up from the table where he is delivering a pitcher of beer and his eyes meet Louis’. He shakes his head and looks at Louis sadly before continuing his work.

Donald’s face falls and he apologizes profusely to Louis for yelling. Louis doesn’t blame him one bit for being so upset. “I promise, Louis, I’m not angry with you. I’m so sorry,” he moans, his speech choked with tears and alcohol. “I know all of this business about life mates and soul mates is confusing for Intakes. I just… It hurts so much sometimes.”

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Donald,” Louis answers, his voice cracking. He reaches across the table and squeezes Donald’s forearm. “I promise, I just didn’t understand, mate.”

Donald smiles at Louis and it’s the saddest smile Louis has ever seen. He runs his fingers through his hair and takes a moment, clearing his throat, before speaking again. “I’m going to try to explain it to you, okay?”

Louis nods his head.

“When you were on Earth, did you ever fall in love, Louis?”

Louis’ is taken completely off guard by the question, but then the image of the artist flashes in his mind. He can’t believe he’s had to allow the memory of him in so many times in one day, especially after spending years of his life trying to forget him. He looks at Donald and nods.

“I did,” Louis answers. “I was in love once on Earth.”

“Were you happy?”

Louis winces. He certainly wasn’t happy prior to their breakup and god knows he spent the entirety of their relationship racked with guilt for cheating on Eleanor, but if he’s being honest with himself he can admit that ‘yes’, during the beginning stages of his relationship with the artist he _was_ happy, because he was in love for the first time and it was with a man as it was meant to be and Louis had never experienced anything like that before. It was wonderful, actually.

“I was,” he answers.

“Was that love anywhere near the kind of love you have for Harry?”

Louis gasps in surprise. “No! It wasn’t at all!” he answers, almost offended that the two relationships could even be compared. “The love I have for Harry is everything; it’s the most perfect love I’ve ever known, it’s…”

“Boundless?” Donald asks.

“Yes! Boundless,” Louis agrees. “But not only that, it’s so pure and true. I’ve never experienced the kind of love I share with Harry with anyone else. Ever! The love we have for each other is… Well, it’s indescribable, Donald.”

As the words leave his mouth, Louis is filled with longing. He wants nothing more than to be wrapped in Harry’s love right this very minute. He needs Harry. He loves him so much and so unconditionally it fills him up and threatens to spill out of him.

“I know it is, Louis,” Donald answers, his voice sad. “But before you met Harry, could you even conceive of a love so magnificent?”

Louis takes a moment to think about the love he felt for the artist, and after he and the artist split and he and Eleanor married and then divorced, the love he hoped to share with another man. He realizes that compared to what he shares with Harry, he positively had no idea what love was back then. He doesn’t want to belittle his Earthly experiences or devalue the gift of love he briefly enjoyed and longed for when he was alive, but the love he knew on Earth seems almost insignificant to the love he knows now. He shakes his head. “Never in a million years could I imagine a love like this. The love Harry and I share is all I’ll ever need.”

“Well, the love you had on Earth is the kind of love Jane is experiencing now. She’s in love and she’s happy, but it’s nothing like what she and I shared and it never will be. Her memory of our love was erased when she was sent back to Earth. Thankfully, she doesn’t even know what she’s missing.” Donald folds his hands together on the table and looks at Louis, his face clouded in misery as he adds, “But I remember everything, Louis. Every touch, every kiss, and most of all, that night we spent together...” his voice trails off and he rubs at his eyes, which are now swollen, and red.

“Oh, Donald,” Louis whispers

Mitchell walks by then carrying a tray loaded down with drinks. In a stealth move, Donald snakes out his hand and grabs a pint off the tray. Mitchell stops in his tracks and is about to chastise him when Donald looks up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, Mitchell. It’s my last one, I promise. I haven’t gotten pissed in nearly twenty-five years and I think I’ve earned it,” he slurs. “I just want one more drink and then I’ll head up to my flat and call it a night.” He holds up his pinky and offers Mitchell a sad smile. “Pinky promise,” he whispers.

Mitchell lets out a heavy sigh. “Alright, mate. But this is the last one, okay?”

“The last one,” Donald repeats, and then he slides out of the booth. “I’m just gonna scoot off to the loo. Don’t take my pint while I’m gone, Mitchell.”

Mitchell nods his head and smiles tiredly. “I won’t Donald.”

“You’re a great friend and a brilliant barkeep,” Donald answers. He throws his arms around Mitchell’s neck and hugs him, Mitchell somehow managing to keep the tray of drinks upright and balanced without spilling so much as a drop before Donald releases him and heads off to the toilet.

“Um, Mitchell. Would you mind bringing me another one, too?” Louis asks. He suddenly could really use another drink. He looks at his watch. It’s a few minutes shy of eight, which means he should be leaving the pub in the next twenty minutes or so if he wants to make it to Harry’s on time and now, more than ever he’s desperate to see Harry, but after witnessing how brokenhearted Donald is over Jane, he’s starting to have the uneasy feeling that maybe going to Harry isn’t such a good idea. Maybe it’s not a good idea at all.

_Fuck. I just love him so much._

Mitchell takes a filled pint glass off his tray and hands it to Louis. He sets the tray down on the table then and sits in Donald’s seat, across from Louis.

“Listen, Louis. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about Donald; he’s not usually like this. He’s a really good man, he’s just having a very rough day is all.”

“I know,” Louis answers solemnly. “He told me what happened. He told me about Jane. I feel so terrible for him, Mitchell.” Louis takes a sip of his pint, his mind once again returning to Harry. “I could never judge him, his broken heart.”

“Yeah,” Mitchell agrees. “It was devastating what happened to him – and to Jane, of course,” he adds. “But she was the lucky one in the deal. Her memory of Donald was completely eradicated when she was sent back to Earth, but Donald… Well, Donald is going to carry his feelings for her forever.”

Louis just shakes his head in disbelief. “It doesn’t seem fair. How come the universe works this way? Why would it give a person something so pure as the love of a soul mate and take it away from them?”

“I use forty-six percent of my brain, Louis, and I’m still trying to figure that one out,” Mitchell replies.

“But if Jane found love again, why can’t Donald? I mean, I know it wouldn’t be the same, but it doesn’t seem right that he has to be alone for all eternity.”

“Look, Louis. I know it’s hard to understand, but having a soul mate is a very rare and precious gift and losing that soul mate is the cruelest thing that can happen in the universe. What happened to Donald and Jane doesn’t happen very often. In fact, he’s the only person with a soul mate that I’ve ever known who was separated from them. It’s absolutely devastating.”

“But it’s not fair!” Louis cries.

Mitchell looks at him in surprise. Louis is sure Mitchell is wondering why he’s having such an emotional reaction to Donald’s broken heart, he’s only just met Louis, so there’s no way that he could know that Louis has a soul mate of his own that he’s worrying about.

“Donald could love again, Louis,” Mitchell says, his voice calm and reassuring. “People fall in love here on the other side every single day and while it would never be the all-encompassing love he had with Jane, he could still find someone and be happy.” He blows out a puff of air, his voice frustrated when he continues. “I’ve a lovely friend, Meghie, that I’ve been trying to set him up with for the past twenty years, but he always turns me down.”

Louis scrunches his face, the name of Mitchell’s friend sounding oddly familiar. He brushes the thought aside as Mitchell continues, “He always says, ‘Nothing will ever compare to my perfect love with Jane, so why bother’?”

“But he should bother! He’s been alone for one hundred and fifty-six years! He deserves better than that.”

Mitchell nods in agreement.

“Well, if you want to know what I think,” Mitchell says, leaning across the table and dropping his voice. “I don’t want to get too personal, but I wish to all things holy that he’d never… Well. I just think the decision to send Jane back to Earth would have been easier for Donald to handle if he and Jane hadn’t been… _intimate_. You know what I mean?”

Louis just stares at Mitchell. He doesn’t want to hear more, and yet it’s like he can’t help himself; he’s on some terrible mission to learn everything that will destroy him and so he opens his mouth and asks another question.

“W-why?” Louis whispers, his body thrumming with nervous anticipation. His skin is positively crawling and his head is spinning, but he needs to know the answer. “Why shouldn’t they have been intimate? They were soul mates, they deserved to be wholly together.”

Mitchell looks at Louis like he’s trying to explain something to a small child who could never even hope to comprehend his words. His voice is patient and kind when he replies. “You can’t undo the experience of a perfect union, Louis. You can’t simply forget what it feels like to be connected to your soul mate in every way, because the union between soul mates is the equivalent of Heaven. It’s a miracle, actually.”

Harry’s voice plays in Louis’ head.

_You’re my Heaven, Louis._

Louis’ mouth falls open and his heart pounds in his chest. He sure he’s going to start sobbing at any moment, but he tries with all of his might to hold back his tears. He’s confused and he’s desperate and he wants nothing more than to share the connection that Mitchell is describing with Harry, but the voice in the back of his mind is telling him that doing so will be selfish, because if he’s sent back to Earth, Harry is going to spend eternity wrapped in the memory of that experience and suffering the pain of knowing he’ll never have it again.

 _I love him too much to ever hurt him like that_.

Mitchell continues speaking. “I can tell you from personal experience, Louis. I have a soul mate and the love we share, it’s simply the most incredible and beautiful thing you could ever imagine. My partner and I have been together nearly four hundred years and it never ceases to amaze me the way we just… _fit_ together. He’s my other half and I’d be lost without him. When we’re intimate, it’s nothing short of Heaven, Louis. It is Heaven.”

Mitchell ducks his head, and it’s obvious he’s embarrassed for sharing such a private thing with Louis, but he shrugs his shoulders and continues anyway. “Donald had that slice of Heaven with his soul mate and then his soul mate was sent away from him and now, nothing will compare to the love they once had, nothing at all. And Donald knows it.”

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no._

Louis feels like ice water has been poured into his veins. He’s chilled to the bone and positively sick with foreboding. He picks up his pint glass with a shaky hand and drinks it down in one long gulp.

Mitchell stares at him in surprise. “Are you okay, Louis? I wasn’t trying to upset you, mate.”

Just then, one of the Intakes seated at the next table over calls out to Mitchell. “Hey barkeep, do you mind bringing us our drinks?” The people at the table laugh. Mitchell waves and tells them he’ll be right over.

“Listen, Louis. I’ve got to get back to work. Donald lives in the Residents’ quarters here in the hotel. I’d walk him up to his flat, but I’m on shift until midnight. Would you mind escorting him home when he finishes his pint? He’s had an awful lot to drink and I wouldn’t want him passing out in the lobby or lift before he gets back to his flat.”

“Of course,” Louis answers numbly. Mitchell looks at him for a minute, his face worried.

“I’m really sorry if I upset you somehow, Louis,” he says, getting up from the table and grabbing the tray of drinks. “You’re a good friend to Donald. I can see how much you care about him and even though he wasn’t himself tonight, it was really nice of you to bring him out. Today, more than ever, he needs to be with people who support him.”

“Donald’s my friend. He’s has been very kind to me,” Louis replies absently. Mitchell looks at Louis in understanding and then gets up and leaves to tend his other customers. Donald returns almost immediately and plunks himself back down in his seat. He picks up his pint glass and takes a long drink, spilling more on his jumper than he manages to get into his mouth and then scrunching his face in disgust.

“I’ve had enough, Louis,” Donald says, his words barely intelligible. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to retire to my flat now.” He pushes himself out of his seat and it’s like his trip to the loo and back has stripped him of all balance and coordination. He practically falls over when trying to stand upright. Louis quickly jumps out of the booth and slides his hand around Donald’s waist to support him.

“I’m going to help you to your flat, mate. Just hang on to me, okay?”

“Louis,” Donald giggles. “That’s so nice of you! You don’t need to do that; I can make it on my own.” He starts to stumble forward then, taking Louis with him. Louis holds onto Donald tighter, forcing him to stand straight.

“Donald, I insist. I’m happy to help you.” He looks over at the bar and Mitchell nods to him in thanks. Louis smiles back at him even though smiling is the very last thing he feels like doing. He keeps hearing Mitchell’s words replaying in his head and the things Mitchell said are starting to undo him.

_You can’t simply forget what it feels like to be connected to your soul mate in every way, because the union between soul mates is the equivalent of Heaven. It’s a miracle…_

_Harry._

_Harry._

_Harry._

Donald is muttering to Louis as they make their way to the lifts, but Louis can barely hear him, his mind so overwhelmed with the thought of hurting Harry the way that Donald is hurting now. Louis feels broken and conflicted: the desire to be with Harry and the urge to protect him from the hurt that may result, battling within him. It’s so much he can hardly bear it and he doesn’t know how he’s able even to walk to the lifts of The Regency hotel, much less support Donald along the way.

“You’ll get to see, Jane, Louis!” Donald exclaims as they climb onto the lift and push the button to the third floor. His words take Louis by surprise and momentarily distract him from the nagging, terrible thoughts spinning around his brain.

“I’ll see Jane? I don’t understand, Donald,” he replies.

Donald barks a loud laugh.

“Not in person, silly,” Donald answers, poking Louis in the chest with his index finger. The sadness returns to his voice as he adds, “You’ll see her portrait. I was an artist during my last lifetime, although I did mostly landscapes and still lifes.” He taps his finger on his forehead. “But as I got smarter, it was easier for me to master human bone structure and anatomy and I can tell you truthfully that my paintings of Jane capture her essence and her beauty perfectly… and I painted them all from memory!” he adds proudly.

Louis can feel Donald’s heartbreak in his own chest, it’s like he’s carrying it heavily and it’s seeping into every part of him. He feels a flash of panic, realizing that his own heartbreak will no doubt get worse before the evening is over.

They step off the lift onto the third floor Residents’ quarters and Donald leads him down a long hallway.

“Do all the hotel workers live here, Donald?” Louis asks, desperate for a less depressing subject.

“No. Most actually live nearby in the city, but there are thirty-six flats for employees and I requested one because I spend the majority of my time here. I love to work, Louis. Working keeps me busy and keeps my mind occupied. Other than playing footie once a week, I spend my time outside of work at home, painting or playing the piano. When I’m not working, I like being alone. It’s… easier that way, I think.”

“Mate, your friends all love you very much. Maybe if you got out a bit more it would help you to feel better about things,” Louis offers.

“I’ll never feel better about things, Louis,” Donald replies dully.

They approach a door at the end of the hallway and Donald puts his thumb on the keypad and the latch unlocks and he ushers Louis inside.

Louis is immediately struck by the smell of oil paint and turpentine and he has another visceral flashback to the artist. _This day has been so cruel._ Donald taps the light switch and four lamps placed strategically about the room come to life.

Donald’s flat is lovely. It’s modern, yet cozy, with hardwood floors and large windows that overlook Judgment City. There is an overstuffed leather couch along one wall that faces a wall-mounted television, the space completed with a matching chair and ottoman, each piece covered in a brightly colored cashmere throw. A baby grand piano sits in the corner. Donald has a large open kitchen and dining room that merge with the living space and a short hallway with doors that Louis assumes lead to Donald’s bedroom and toilet. But the thing that really catches Louis’ eye is the space set aside for Donald’s paintings, because it reminds him so much of the space the artist used in his studio flat for the very same purpose.

Donald only has one easel, and the canvas is covered. In front of it sits an upright stool and a small table on which dozens of tubes of paint, jars of brushes, spatulas and other tools are stored. Donald points lamely at the canvas.

“That one, I just started.” He spreads out his arms, directing Louis’ attention to the surrounding walls. “But all of these pieces are completed,” he says proudly.

Louis doesn’t know how he missed seeing them when he first came in, because Donald’s walls are covered in the most exquisite landscape paintings he’s ever seen. There are seascapes and cityscapes, landscapes of open fields and nightscapes of old London and the English countryside. The paintings are beautiful and brightly colored and they lend warmth to Donald’s entire flat. As Louis looks at the walls, his eyes catch on a small painting, framed in ornate gold and propped on a tiny easel on the piano. It’s a painting of a woman and Louis suspects it’s Jane, but he doesn’t want to be rude, so he doesn’t walk over to look at the painting up close.

“Do you want something to drink, Louis?” Donald asks. “I’m afraid all I can offer is water, because I only have Resident food and beverages in my flat.” He opens up the cupboards above the sink and goes to remove a glass, but he drops it and it shatters on the floor making a loud noise, shards flying everywhere.

“Bloody hell!” Donald cries, his voice nearly a shout.

Louis rushes over to him and picks up the broken pieces, using a small broom to clean up the rest. When he’s tossed the broken glass in the trash bin he turns to Donald and only then does he realize that Donald is once again crying.

“I’m such an idiot,” Donald sobs. “It’s probably my fault she got sent away. She’s better off without me.”

“Donald!” Louis chastises. “Please don’t say that! You’re a good person and she’d never be better off without you. You had nothing to do with her being returned to Earth and you’re not an idiot!” Donald leans his bum against the counter and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He looks completely broken.

“You’re the first Intake I’ve ever told about Jane, Louis,” he whispers. “All my Resident friends know about her, but you’re the first Intake I’ve ever shared her with.”

“Oh Donald,” Louis replies. “I’m honored. I’m just so sorry.”

“I know I can trust you, Louis.”

“You can, Donald,” Louis offers. “We’re friends. I won’t betray your trust.”

Donald blinks heavily, his eyes closing for several long beats before he opens them and yawns. He looks at Louis, a sad, drunken smile on his lips.”

“Come on, mate,” Louis whispers. “Let’s get you to bed,”

Donald nods his head and stumbles down the hallway toward his bedroom, Louis following close behind. They reach Donald’s room and he opens the door and flips on the light and Louis can’t help but draw in a shocked breath at what he sees. Thankfully, Donald is too out of it to even notice.

Donald’s room is neat and the basic amenities are stylish, but nothing exceptional. He has a large bed covered in a brightly colored plaid bedspread with matching pillows, on either side of which sits a wooden nightstand and small lamp, while the wall opposite the bed boasts a large dresser. The door to the Donald’s walk-in cupboard is open, his work uniforms and street clothes hung up neatly and arranged by color. But like the main living area of the flat, it’s the walls of Donald’s bedroom that really take Louis’ breath away. Taking up a sizeable portion of the wall that runs alongside Donald’s bed is a huge framed painting boasting a perfect rendering of Donald and a woman with long blond hair sitting by a stream and sharing a picnic. The woman is petite, with bright blue eyes and a heart-shaped face and although she’s not conventionally beautiful, her face has a sweetness about it and Louis can understand why Donald fell for her. It’s like she’s his other half and although it’s only a painting, the two look absolutely perfect together and madly in love.

“That’s my Jane,” Donald whispers, and he stares at the painting with such sadness and love in his eyes that Louis has too look away; it feels like he’s intruding on a moment that is deeply private and personal.

There are other paintings too. There is a large portrait of Jane that hangs over Donald’s bed. On the wall behind the dresser, there are paintings in various sizes: in some of them, Jane’s face alights with laughter, or stares lovingly at a person who resides out of frame. In one painting, she’s lying supine in the grass surrounded by wildflowers, in another; she’s sitting on a park bench staring off into the distance. Donald is in several of the paintings and both he and Jane wear tupas in every single one.

By far, the most dramatic painting hangs on the wall closest to the doorway. It’s absolutely huge: larger even than the painting depicting the picnic scene. In the foreground of the painting is Donald and Jane walking side-by-side and holding hands, the image painted from behind, so only the backs of their heads and bodies are featured, their tupas ethereal-looking and glimmering in the sun. The background of the painting is of a landscape so colorful and spectacular that it seems otherworldly. It’s covered in trees and flowers the likes of which Louis has never seen and the skyline is brilliant shades of blues and purples and reds that are more intense and vibrant than any colors on Earth or even in Judgment City. The painting makes Louis’ heart ache because it’s obvious that in the painting, Donald and Jane are walking towards this landscape and they’re walking towards it together.

“That’s the next realm,” Donald whispers from behind Louis’ back. He pulls back the covers of his bed, Louis completely unaware Donald has even moved because he’s so caught up in the painting and the heavy emotions it’s evoking in him. “It’s how I imagine it could have been, if Jane had gone with me.”

Louis doesn’t even know how to react. He has no words because Donald’s heartbreak is so raw and tangible and it suddenly strikes Louis that Donald has suffered this heartache for one hundred and fifty-six years without reprieve.

 _It’s not fair_.

Louis clears his throat, staring at the painting as he speaks. “It’s a beautiful painting, Donald. All of your paintings are beautiful. You’re so talented and… and…” He can’t hold it in any longer, and Louis feels the first tear spill down his cheek. “I’m so sorry you lost her, mate. I’m so sorry she’s not here with you now. You deserve to have her here with you every day. You deserve to have her forever.”

His tears begin to fall harder and Louis wipes at them furiously. Donald is already miserable enough, he certainly doesn’t need to see Louis crying. He draws in a deep breath and wipes at his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Donald,” he says, his voice choked. “I’m just really moved by your artwork and I don’t mean to upset you any more than you –”

Louis turns then and stops midsentence, because Donald is curled into a tight ball on top of his bed, fully dressed and fast asleep. Louis stares at him sadly and then carefully slides off Donald’s shoes and places them on the floor beside the bed. He pulls the covers up, spreading them over Donald’s body and then tucks them in around him before taking a step back.

Donald chokes a heavy sob in his sleep, his closed eyes still wet with tears, and Louis realizes that for Donald, the pain of losing his soul mate is constant. He can tell by the dozens of paintings of Jane that hang in Donald’s bedroom that she’s always on his mind. She’s the first thing he sees when he wakes up in the morning and the last thing he sees before he goes to bed. Donald’s Afterlife is spent longing for a love he will never again have.

 _And if I get sent back to Earth, Harry will suffer the same fate_.

Making sure to be as quiet as possible, Louis switches off the lights and tiptoes out of Donald’s bedroom. He walks softly down the hallway, his heart heavy as he leaves the flat.

 

*****

 

Louis sits on the bed in his hotel room, his legs hanging over the side, his hands cradling his face, and he cries. He’s gutted and broken and his heart is literally throbbing in his chest, the pain so real that he can barely take it. His mind is racing over all that he’s heard and learned over the past couple of hours and he has no idea how to process such sad information, so all he can do is think of what Donald and Jane suffered in parallel terms to his _own_ relationship and his _own_ soul mate. All Louis can do is think about Harry.

It’s just that he loves Harry so much and he can’t bear the thought of hurting him, and after all he’s heard tonight, he’s not sure he should even be with him at all until after their Reviews are decided. He and Harry grow closer with every moment they spend together and the closer they get, the more it’s going to hurt Harry if Louis is sent back to Earth.

 _Maybe I should stop seeing him all together_.

He looks at the clock on his nightstand and he realizes that he’s already ten minutes late for their date. He’s sure Harry is wondering where he is; he promised him he’d be at his hotel at 8:30 on the nose.

He lets out an anguished cry, his body racked with tears.

_It’s not fucking fair._

If Louis follows through with their planned evening – if he makes love to Harry – and then fails his Review and is sent back to Earth, Harry will be destroyed. Just like Donald is now, and Louis can’t do that to him. He loves Harry too much to hurt him in such a cruel way.

But he can’t just abandon him either. Harry deserves some sort of explanation. Louis is so conflicted and so deeply sad.

_But, what if…_

Louis draws in a breath. He sits up straight and retrieves a tissue from the box on the nightstand and blows his nose, the gears in his mind suddenly turning at full speed.

_Maybe…_

Maybe he doesn’t have to totally break things off with Harry. Maybe, if they just wait to be _intimate_ until after their Reviews have ended, then everything will be all right. That way, if Louis is sent back to Earth, Harry won’t be tethered with the memory of making love with his soul mate, and, on what is seeming more and more an unlikely chance that Louis moves forward, they can still experience that union together in the next realm. Given the love he has for Harry and the way that he is longing for him now, it seems so ridiculous that Louis is even contemplating such scenarios, but he has to do what’s best for Harry. He has to protect him at all costs, because Harry is the only thing that matters to him.

The telephone on Louis’ nightstand rings, startling him out of his thoughts. He knows it must be Harry on the line and he draws in several deep breaths, trying to mask his tears and steel himself before answering. Finally, on the fourth ring, he picks up.

“Hello,” Louis says, trying to sound calm.

“Louis, my love,” Harry purrs, “you’re officially late for our date. You aren’t thinking of standing me up are you?” he teases. His voice sounds like honey and sex and Louis has to press his palm over his crotch in an attempt to stave off the arousal that Harry’s voice incites in him. He wants Harry more than anything. God. He wants him so much.

“No, love. Never in a million years would I stand you up,” Louis answers truthfully.

“Then why aren’t you here? I’ve got your surprise ready and I’m waiting for you.” Harry blows out a long breath that even through the telephone line Louis can feel on his skin. “I think I’ve always been waiting for you, Lou.”

Louis closes his eyes, his body thrumming with want, his mind telling him that he can’t have the thing he desires most; he can’t have Harry.

“I… Um… Well,” Louis clears his throat and tries to calm his breathing. “I had dinner with Donald and he had a bit too much to drink. I helped him back to his flat and so I’m running late.”

“Donald got pissed?” Harry asks, his voice surprised. “That seems so out of character for him, he’s always been so proper every time we’ve met.”

Louis swallows thickly.

“He had a hard day, love.”

Harry’s voice softens. “I’m so sorry, I hope he’s okay. But you… You took care of him, didn’t you, Louis? I bet you even tucked him into bed.”

“I did,” Louis answers and he tries to push the image of Donald curled in the fetal position, crying in his sleep over his lost soul mate, out of his mind. “I think he’s going to have a pretty wicked hangover tomorrow,” Louis says, hoping his voice sounds light. “But he’s okay now, he’s fast asleep.”

“You’re so wonderful, Louis. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, darling,” Louis answers. Another fat tear rolls down his cheek.

“Well, I’m waiting for you, sweetheart. Suite P3. Come show me how much you love me. Come now.”

“Oh-okay, love,” Louis replies.

The line goes dead.

Louis sits frozen on his bed for a solid five minutes before he finally wills himself to move. He’s terrified that he won’t be strong and that he’ll give in to his desire. He loves Harry so desperately and he wants nothing more than to finally consummate their relationship, but given what he now knows about soul mates that lose their other halves, he realizes that he simply can’t be with Harry in that way. It will only hurt Harry if Louis is sent back to Earth and Louis won’t do that to him. Louis absolutely must restrain himself.

He goes to his en suite and he brushes his teeth and he splashes cold water on his face because he doesn’t want Harry to know that he’s been crying. His eyes are still a bit swollen, but maybe Harry won’t notice. Louis will go to Harry’s hotel room and they’ll talk and he’ll make Harry understand and it will be okay. And then maybe, just maybe, if Louis is so lucky to advance in the universe, they can give themselves to each other fully.

 _But only if I move forward_.

Louis checks his appearance. With just a little fussing, his fringe is back on point, and despite the slight puffiness to his eyes, he looks handsome. He doesn’t think that Harry will be able to tell he’s been crying.

He leaves his hotel room and takes the lift to the lobby and as he exits, he thinks to himself that if only he’d left the pool five minutes earlier that afternoon he would have avoided Donald altogether and he never would have known the terrible things that now haunt every corner of his mind.

But he does know.

Louis exits the hotel and walks the short distance to Harry’s all the while trying to calm his nerves and formulate the right thing to say, because more than anything, he doesn’t want to hurt the man he loves and he certainly doesn’t want Harry to feel rejected.

Finally, he approaches The Ambassador and just like on their first date, when Louis walked Harry back to his hotel after the Elvis concert, there are two doormen waiting at the hotel’s main entrance. They open the double doors and usher Louis inside.

The interior of The Ambassador is spectacular and Louis’ eyes go wide at the opulence surrounding him.

Like the exterior, the main lobby boasts an Art Deco design theme and the color palette is comprised of sandy beiges, brilliant shades of sea blue and turquoise, along with ornate touches of black and gold. The marble floor features a chevron design and the walls are covered in patterned wallpaper that looks straight out of _The Great Gatsby_.

Louis crosses the lobby and has just pressed the _Up_ button at the bank of lifts when a woman approaches. She’s young. She looks to be in her early twenties and she’s of Hispanic descent. She’s quite pretty, her long black hair braided around the crown of her head and then hanging loosely over one shoulder, her lips painted a bright red. She wears the same sort of uniform Donald wears while on duty at The Regency, with the exception that her necktie and pocket square are sea blue.

She greets Louis happily; her voice enthusiastic as she extends her hand and says, “Mr. Tomlinson, I presume! We’re so glad to have you as our guest this evening, Mr. Styles is expecting you in his suite.” She lowers her voice and smiles at him knowingly. “We’ve missed seeing Harry around the past few days, but we understand how special you are and I’m sure Donald is taking great care of both of you at The Regency.”

“You know who I am?” Louis questions.

“Of course! I suppose I should introduce myself, I’m Marta, I’m Harry’s concierge.”

“Oh, right!” Louis answers. “He told me about you, he said you were very kind to him. He said you were especially helpful when he first arrived.”

She smiles warmly. “He had a very difficult transition, but from what I saw this evening, he’s doing quite well now.”

Just then, an older woman with blonde hair styled in a smart bob walks over and joins Louis and Marta. She’s dressed in a housekeeping uniform and her nametag reads, “Serena”.

“Is this Louis?” she asks Marta, her voice excited. Marta grins. “It is. He’s just as gorgeous as Harry said, isn’t he?”

“Simply stunning,” Serena answers. Louis can feel his cheeks flush. At least the banter with these two women is temporarily taking his mind off the conversation he knows he has to have with Harry.

“Harry’s a lovely person, Louis. We all just adore him here at The Ambassador,” Serena says.

“He’s wonderful,” Louis agrees.

“Do you know that he leaves me little notes thanking me for cleaning his suite? It’s the sweetest thing,” Serena replies. She leans in close to Louis, elbowing him in the ribs as she adds, “Of course, I haven’t had much to clean the past couple of days because he hasn’t so much stepped foot in this building.” Louis ducks his head.

“Serena! Don’t give Louis a hard time,” Marta laughs and then raises an eyebrow and lowers her voice. “Even though he deserves it for keeping our Harry from us.” She winks at Louis. He has no idea how to respond.

The lift bell chimes then and the doors open to the middle lift in a row of three.

“Well, if you ladies will excuse me, I’m off to see Harry,” Louis says and he extends his hand, first shaking Serena’s and then Marta’s. Both women use the handshake as an opportunity to pull Louis into a hug and then they stand there side by side, grinning at him like he’s some kind of adorable, lost puppy.

“You’re not going to get to Harry’s suite in that lift, Louis,” Marta says, just as Louis’ about to step inside.

Louis steps back, turning around.

“I’m not?”

“No,” Marta answers, ushering Louis to a lift that he didn’t even notice on the opposite wall. “Harry’s in one of our penthouse suites. You need to take the private lift to reach the top floor of the hotel.”

 _Suite P3_.

“Oh… I guess I didn’t put it together that he was in the penthouse,” Louis answers, realization washing over him.

 _Harry is staying in the penthouse_.

Louis remembers Rowan mentioning something to him about a person’s accommodations in Judgment City being reflective of the life they lived on Earth and he immediately considers what kind of heroic life Harry must have led to warrant a penthouse suite in the city’s top hotel. Clearly, he did more than just climb trees or rescue people from fires if he was assigned to the penthouse at The Ambassador. Louis knows The Ambassador is the finest hotel in Judgment City and not only is Harry staying there, but he’s staying in one of their best suites. He isn’t surprised though; Harry is the most wonderful person he’s ever known, he no doubt displayed countless acts of fearlessness during the course of his lifetime.

 _Harry is moving forward_.

Louis walks over and pushes the _Up_ button for the penthouse lift and while he waits for its arrival, Serena and Marta chatter about Harry and they share with Louis how happy they are to finally meet the person Harry told them about after his very first meeting with his advocate.

“Harry mentioned me then?” Louis asks, his voice surprised. “We’d only just seen each other in the waiting room of our advocates’ offices. We hadn’t even properly met or spoken to one another yet.”

“He came back to the hotel after he had lunch with Sam and I asked him how his meeting with her had gone and he immediately started talking about you, Louis,” Marta replies.

Warmth blooms in Louis’ chest. After he saw Harry for the first time in that reception area on his first full day of death, all Louis could think about was the beautiful man with the long, chestnut curls. Harry was on his mind during Louis’ entire first meeting with Marcus and during their lunch too. Now, Louis knows that Harry felt the same way about him.

 _Soul mates_.

“Tell Louis what Harry said about him, Marta!” Serena enthuses. “I swear it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard anyone say about another person.”

Marta clutches her hand over her heart. Louis can feel his own heart racing in his chest.

“What did he say?” he asks. He’s not even sure he wants to know the answer. He loves Harry so much and as soon as the lift arrives he has to go upstairs to Harry’s penthouse suite and tell him they can’t be together physically and the thought of doing so fills him so full of sorrow and longing that he thinks he might collapse right there in this elegant little corridor of The Ambassador hotel.

Marta holds her hands out, framing her words, “He said, ‘I saw him and I fell in love’,” and her eyes water with emotion. She looks Louis in the eyes and reaches out her hand and gently grasps his forearm. “And then he told us that you smiled because you knew.”

Louis closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to hold back the tears that are starting to well behind his eyelids.

“I love him so much,” he replies, his voice choked.

“He loves you, dear,” Serena answers.

“Harry has planned something very special for you, Louis. You’re going to have a wonderful night,” Marta says.

The lift bell chimes. Once again, Louis says goodbye to the two women and this time, when the lift doors open, he steps inside the car, Marta and Serena waving to him adoringly as the doors close.

The entire ride up to the penthouse floor of The Ambassador hotel, Louis takes deep breaths, trying to quell his nerves.

The car comes to a stop, and the bell chimes again, the doors opening to a large and elegant hallway bedecked in the same Art Deco style as the lobby of the hotel. In the center of each long wall on either side and directly across from the lift is a set of polished double doors that lead to the individual penthouse suites. The doors are heavy oak and inlaid with ebony, cherry, and beech wood and each boast an intricate design of curvilinear fans, framed in a series of interlaced rectangles. Beside each set of doors is a brass nameplate, the doors on the left of the lift and directly in front bearing plates inscribed with the words, _Suite P1_ , and _Suite P2_ , respectively, while the double doors on the wall to the right of the lift has a nameplate with the inscription, _Suite P3_.

_Harry’s suite._

Louis walks over to that set of doors and stands in front of them. He smoothes the front of his tupa and then runs his fingers through his fringe. He closes his eyes and says a silent prayer that Harry will understand, that he won’t hate Louis for ruining the night they’ve planned together.

He knows he’s not being fair. He knows Harry loves him and that he could never hate Louis. He supposes what he’s really worried about is that in the next few minutes, he’s going to cause Harry hurt; but better Harry suffer a little pain now, then spend eternity pining for Louis should Louis get sent back to Earth. He closes his hand into a fist and he knocks on the door.

“I’m coming, Lou!” Harry shouts from the other side. Louis’ feels butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He’s anxious and scared and most of all, he just wants Harry so much he can barely stand it; he can already feel the familiar pull in his groin just at the sound of his voice and the thought of seeing him.

The doors swing open and Harry stands between them, his arms outstretched as he holds onto their ornate doorknobs, his back bowed and his chest pushed forward, a smile overtaking his entire face.

“Finally!” Harry gushes. “I thought you’d never get here, Louis.” Harry shakes his head, his voice low and full of lust as he adds, “You look absolutely gorgeous, Lou. I knew you would.”

Louis just stares at him, unable to speak because he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in all of his existence and he’s literally at a loss for words.

Harry is dressed in loose fitting, trouser-style pajama bottoms in soft white, and nothing else: the creamy skin of his broad chest and muscular arms practically glowing. In fact, his tattooed skin _is glowing_ : it’s shimmering in subtle rays of color as if he’s been sprinkled in opalescent fairy dust. Louis leans in to get a closer look and Harry bites his lip shyly. It’s then that Louis notices that the soft shimmer also highlights his cheekbones and jaw line, as well as runs down the center of Harry’s neck and over his perfect collarbones.

_And his abs._

Holy Christ, his six-pack is accentuated with the soft, iridescent glow, as are his hipbones and the beautiful V-lines beneath his laurel tattoos, his pajama bottoms slung so low that the thin trail of hair that leads from his navel to the coarse hair at the top of his crotch is fully visible.

Louis’ mouth waters, his body thrumming with want.

His eyes trace over Harry’s body and he imagines that shimmering glow running down Harry’s taut arse, accentuating his lithe thighs, and outlining his strong calve muscles. Louis just wants to kiss and lick every inch of him and then his heart clenches in his chest because that was their plan: he _should be_ kissing and licking every inch of Harry’s beautiful body and instead he has to deny himself _and_ Harry that pleasure.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Louis looks up then and Harry is still smiling at him, his dimples set deep in his cheeks and his face full of love and Louis thinks Harry cannot possibly be real because nobody has a right to look this heavenly.

Harry’s hair is so shiny and it’s swooped to the side: long, chestnut ringlets kissed with the tiniest traces of gold falling over the front and back of his shoulders. His lips are the prettiest pink Louis has ever seen and his eyes are such a brilliant shade of green, and Louis just stares because he wants this moment to last forever. He could live one hundred lifetimes and never see anyone even a fraction as beautiful as his Harry.

 _He’s like a miracle_.

Harry is Louis’ miracle.

Harry lets out a nervous little laugh and then he speaks, the rich sound of his voice taking Louis back to the first time he heard Harry in the advocate’s office on his first full day in the Afterlife. It’s like warm syrup being poured from a pitcher and it sends a spark of electricity throughout Louis’ body, arousing his senses and burning his soul.

“Louis, say something! Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to come inside?”

Louis looks Harry over yet again, trying to find his voice. Finally, he manages to speak.

“You’re an angel, Harry,” Louis answers, his voice cracking. He’s never spoken words more true.

“Loouuuiiis,” Harry replies, dragging out Louis’ name. His cheeks blush a soft pink and he looks downward shyly and Louis is so in love he can barely breathe. “Come on in, then.” Harry stands back from the door, ushering Louis inside.

Louis walks through the entrance to Harry’s suite and his mouth falls open and his eyes go wide at what he sees.

Harry’s suite is at least five times the size of Louis’. The floor is polished marble and covered in hand woven rugs featuring geometric Art Deco patterns. There is a huge, sunken living area featuring two, tufted couches that face a large fireplace complete with a roaring fire, it’s façade boasting an ornate marble pattern of inlaid acanthus leaves framed with triangular tiles. Between the two couches rests a circular-shaped coffee table outfitted with three, overstuffed side chairs and covered in vases filled with fresh flowers in various hues of blue. There is a full bar along the furthest wall and a mini kitchen area boasting top-of-the-line appliances and mosaic tile furnishings complete with a Tiffany-style glass table that seats four. To the right of the sitting area there is a set of double doors that are cracked open and emit a warm, flickering glow. Louis suspects those doors lead to Harry’s bedroom and he can hear soft music playing inside. Notably, the outer walls of the suite are comprised of floor to ceiling windows that afford the most spectacular view of Judgment City, the buildings and streets speckled with multi-hued lights that illuminate the dark, evening sky.

It’s absolutely awe-inspiring and Louis suddenly realizes how small and pathetic his own hotel suite must seem compared to Harry’s penthouse.

“Harry,” Louis whispers and then he draws in a breath, clearing his throat and raising his voice. He holds out his arms indicating the lavish penthouse that surrounds them and quietly asks, “This suite… This view… You have all of this luxury and yet you’ve spent the last few days and nights at mine? Why would you do that, love? Why would you stay at mine when you have all of this?”

Harry wraps his hand around Louis’ waist and he pulls him close. He places a few soft kisses on Louis’ neck and then another below his ear and still another on his temple. His large hands cradle Louis’ face then and he raises his own chin, nodding at their surroundings.

“None of this matters to me, Louis” he says, indicating the exquisite and sizable space around them. “I don’t care about any of this. I don’t care about it at all. Wherever you are, Louis; that’s my home. You’re my home and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers, completely overwhelmed.

He feels such intense emotions he can hardly contain them. His love for Harry crashes over him like a tidal wave, it swallows him whole like an unforgiving canyon, and it carries him away like the winds of a hurricane. It is everything.

“I love you,” Louis whispers.

“I love you, too, Lou,” Harry answers.

Louis takes Harry’s hand and he leads him to the sofa that faces the fireplace. Harry sits down first and then grabs at Louis’ tupa skirt, bunching and lifting the fabric in one hand and then pulling Louis on top of him with the other so that Louis is straddling his lap.

“We’ve got to get you out of this tupa,” Harry pouts. “Way too much material for my liking.”

He reaches his hands under Louis’ skirt and rests his palms over Louis’ pants, cupping his cheeks in each hand before squeezing them, Louis letting out the softest whimper at Harry’s touch. Harry’s hands feel so fucking good that Louis can’t help himself and he leans forward and kisses Harry slow and tender, their lips slotting together in soft, wet presses and Louis feeling tingling little bubbles of pleasure dancing through his body from his head to his toes.

They kiss and they kiss and Harry slides his tongue into Louis’ mouth and Louis flickers his own tongue over Harry’s and it’s so sweet and loving and pure and Louis is drunk on the feeling.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

He pulls back and when he looks at Harry, Harry’s expression is positively starry-eyed and Louis just has to put his hands on him. He barters with himself because he cannot fathom walking away from Harry just yet.

 _Ten minutes_.

 _I’ll give myself ten minutes to love him and then I’ll tell him that we have to wait_.

Ten minutes. It’s a perfectly reasonable number.

Louis places his hands in one of his favorite spots on Harry’s body: setting his thumbs side by side in the center of Harry’s chest and then spreading his fingers over the wings of Harry’s butterfly tattoo.

“Your skin, Harry,” Louis whispers. “You’re positively glowing.”

Harry drops his head and presses his forehead against Louis’ chest, hiding his face. Louis can practically feel the heat from Harry’s blush before Harry looks up again and speaks.

“It’s so embarrassing. This glow is my friends’ Marta and Serena’s doing,” he answers shyly. “I feel like a bloody disco ball, but they insisted.”

“I met them!” Louis exclaims, and Harry immediately breaks out into a wide smile. “I met them in the lobby on the way to your suite.”

“You did? Aren’t they wonderful, Lou? Marta is my concierge and Serena is the housekeeper I told you about, but they’re both so nice, and so much fun! They helped me with my surprise tonight and I’m very grateful to them.”

“They think an awful lot of you, Harry.”

“They’re just being kind.”

“I don’t think so, love. I think they see what I see.”

“What do you see, Louis?”

“That you’re the most beautiful person in this whole bloody hotel,” Louis answers.

“Lou…” Harry whispers.

Louis glides his fingers along Harry’s collarbone, and then leans in and presses kisses to Harry’s skin, his mouth tracing the shimmering glow up Harry’s neck, Harry’s warm flesh igniting sparkling currents of desire throughout his body.

He pulls back then, because even though he doesn’t want to; Louis needs to get a hold of himself.

But he can’t help himself. He _has_ to keep his hands on Harry.

_Just a little bit more._

He dances his fingertips over Harry’s shoulders and down his arms and Harry’s head falls back against the backrest of the sofa.

Louis’s spreads his fingers wide and then rests his hands on Harry’s firm abs, Harry’s muscles clenching in response. He crawls his hands up Harry’s chest, his index fingers and thumbs playing over Harry’s nipples, which instantly harden at his touch.

“The way you’re glowing, Harry,” Louis says, and then he leans forward and sucks at the tender skin at the juncture of Harry’s shoulder and neck. “Your skin is just shimmering and it’s so beautiful, I think your surprise has bested mine. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough of you, love. You’re my whole world, do you know that?”

Harry arches his back and for the briefest moment their clothed cocks rub against each other and they’re both already getting hard and the sensation of Harry’s dick rubbing against his own shoots through Louis’ entire body and he thinks he may burst into flames, his desire bordering on uncontrollable.

“Louis, do you _actually_ think this glimmering body lotion is your surprise?” Harry asks, his voice amused.

Louis raises his hands and places them on Harry’s shoulders. He leans back so he can look at Harry straight on.

“It’s not? Because honestly, Harry, the way you look… I could never ask for anything more.”

“But you deserve more, Lou,” Harry replies.

Louis has to turn his face away because he _doesn’t_ deserve more. He doesn’t deserve anything, especially if he is sent back to Earth and breaks Harry’s heart.

Harry wraps his hands around Louis’ waist then and pushes him off his lap and onto the couch. He stands and he takes Louis’ hand in his own, pulling him upright and then wrapping his arms around him. He rests his forehead against Louis’ and blows minty breath over his lips, his mouth so close that Louis can feel the words vibrating against his own lips when Harry again speaks.

“Your surprise is in my bedroom, Louis. Take me to bed and you’ll get to see it.”

 _Fucking hell_.

“I… Harry…” Louis murmurs.

“I want you so much, sweetheart,” Harry continues. He takes a few short steps from the couch and starts to walk towards the bedroom, pulling Louis along with him. “This is what we’ve waited for, Louis. Come make love to me.”

For a moment, Louis is completely suspended. He wants Harry so desperately and maybe he can have him. Maybe they can make love because that’s what they’ve planned for this evening and Louis knows it will be so pure and wonderful and he longs for Harry so much. He knows Harry wants him just as much as he wants Harry and maybe that’s enough. Maybe things will turn out okay and he won’t get sent back to Earth and then he won’t have to leave Harry and break his heart. Maybe they won’t be separated and Louis won’t be reborn as someone who doesn’t even recognize the most wonderful person he’s ever known when he next returns to the Afterlife. Maybe they’ll move forward together, just like Harry believes, and then Harry won’t be left shattered and unable to love again. Maybe Harry won’t end up suffering the same fate as Donald.

 _Donald_.

The thought of Donald sobbing over his lost love washes over Louis in a heavy wave of sorrow and Louis feels like he’s been punched in the stomach, Mitchell’s words once again repeating in his head:

_You can’t undo the experience of a perfect union, Louis… Donald had that slice of Heaven with his soul mate and then his soul mate was sent away from him and now, nothing will compare to the love they once had, nothing at all..._

Louis stops in his tracks and the sudden tension between his hand and Harry’s that occurs when Harry continues forward and Louis stands still, jerks Harry’s body and he turns to look at Louis, his face surprised.

“You’ve stopped moving, Louis,” he giggles. He takes a step toward Louis and wraps his free hand behind Louis’ back and pulls their bodies flush as he whispers in his ear, “If you want to have me out here, in front of the fireplace maybe, or even bent over that pretty Tiffany table, we can do that, Lou. But the first time you make love to me, I’d really like it to be in our bed.” He bites at Louis’ earlobe and Louis’ eyes fall shut. Despite the constant thrum of anxiety, Louis is fully hard now and he can see that Harry is hard too and he wants him so desperately and he doesn’t want to do the right thing. He doesn’t want to hold back; he wants to give Harry everything.

 _But I can’t_.

“Um… Listen Harry,” Louis says, and he thinks he may break down and cry, but he has to hold it together. He has to stay in control so he can make Harry understand without hurting him. “Can we talk, love?”

Harry pulls back so they are face to face. He furrows his brow, looking at Louis curiously.

“You want to talk now, Louis? Are you serious?” He turns then and starts to pull Louis toward the bedroom but Louis plants his feet and does not move.

“Hazza, wait! Yes, I’m serious. I want to talk now.”

Harry turns around, just the hint of exasperation in his voice when he speaks.

“All right, Louis. We can talk, but let’s not have too lengthy of a conversation,” he says. He grins and his smile lights up his whole face and he’s so breathtakingly beautiful and Louis is aching for him. Harry runs his hand over his crotch, “You’ve already got me hard, Louis.” He takes his hand away and places it on the front of Louis’ tupa, wrapping his fingers around Louis’ clothed dick. “And so are you,” he teases, giving Louis’ cock a gentle squeeze and it feels so incredible that Louis has to fight every instinct within him not to drag Harry into the bedroom and fuck him beyond repair.

“Come on, love,” he whispers and he walks Harry back to the couch. “I need to talk to you. I need to tell you something.” They sit down, side by side, and this time Louis doesn’t straddle Harry’s lap, but Harry nonetheless has ideas of his own and he crowds up against Louis, forcing him back against the armrest. Harry pulls at the collar of Louis’ tupa, tugging it low and gently nipping at the skin of Louis’ shoulders. Harry’s lips and teeth feel amazing on Louis’ body and it’s almost involuntary when Louis lifts his hips off the couch, grinding his crotch against Harry’s.

“That’s more like it, Lou,” Harry grunts and he slides his hips back and then forward so that their clothed cocks rut against each other. It feels so fucking good and Louis wants more, more, more, but he knows he needs to pull himself together. He knows he needs to stop this before they get too carried away.

“Haz,” Louis groans, “I really need to talk to you.”

“Then talk, Lou,” Harry says, once again pressing his hips and crotch against Louis’ cock. Louis’ head falls to the side and he moans loudly at the sensation, and then Harry drags his tongue up Louis’ neck and bites down hard on the spot at the base of Louis’ ear, where Louis is extra sensitive. The sharp bite of Harry’s teeth on his skin, coupled with the soft, wet press of his wet, velvety lips feels so wonderful and for a brief moment, Louis starts to relax; he starts to let go and give in fully. He closes his eyes, totally lost in the feeling.

Harry continues sucking on Louis’ neck and grinding against him and Louis is already starting to feel wrecked. Harry is only wearing thin pajama bottoms and when he rubs his clothed cock against Louis’, Louis feels it absolutely _everywhere_ and it’s so bloody intense that Louis wants to strip off his tupa and take Harry right there on the couch.

Louis is positively burning with want.

He wants to pull down Harry’s pajama bottoms and free Harry’s cock and lick at its salty head and then he wants to drag Harry to the bedroom and lay him out across the mattress and gently work him open, pressing kisses over Harry’s body as his fingers glide in and out of him. He wants to slide into Harry and feel the tight heat of Harry’s body as it envelops his own cock. He wants to fuck into him slowly, taking him apart inch by inch until Harry is screaming his name beneath him and then he wants to spill into him; he wants to fill Harry up with his come and claim him as his own. Louis wants all of Harry and he wants him right this very instant.

And he’s so close to taking him.

Louis is so very close to letting go and just giving in to his desires. But more so, he’s so incredibly close to giving in to the indescribable love he feels for Harry, because really, that’s what this all about; he wants to show Harry how much he loves him. He wants to _make_ love with him so that they finally know what it’s likes to become one together, just like they were always meant to be. Louis is just about to do just that; he’s positively aching to give Harry everything.

But then his mind betrays his body and it also betrays his heart by flashing on the paintings of Jane that cover Donald’s bedroom walls and Louis is painfully reminded that he can’t let this happen. The only thing that Louis knows for sure besides how much he desperately loves and wants Harry is that if he’s sent back to Earth he’s going to break Harry’s heart and Harry will suffer that heartbreak for eternity, just like Donald is suffering now.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

Louis has to stop this. He has to stop this maddeningly intoxicating foreplay and he has to stop it this instant or he won’t be able to turn back.

Louis places both hands on Harry’s shoulders and pushes him back forcefully. “Harry! You have to get off of me; I need to talk to you! I’m fucking serious!” he cries, his voice frustrated and anxious.

Harry’s entire body immediately stiffens in shock and for a moment he doesn’t move. But then, he slowly pulls away. He sits upright and scoots away from Louis so their bodies are no longer touching, are no longer even _close_ , his face positively wounded and Louis knows that Harry thinks the frustration in Louis’ voice is directed at him, but it’s not: Louis is only frustrated with himself.

“I-I’m sorry, Louis,” Harry mumbles. He runs his fingers through his hair and nervously does his little “fluff, swoop, and tug” routine, before looking down at his lap, his cheeks and chest already flushed a bright red and it’s obvious that he is utterly mortified and humiliated when he again speaks. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, Louis. I’m so sorry. We can talk. I won’t… I won’t touch you again.”

“Harry, no!” Louis says, his voice choked. He crawls right next to Harry and sits partially on his knees so one leg is hanging off the side of the couch, his body turned toward Harry, although Harry turns his own face away and doesn’t meet Louis’ gaze. “When I told you to get off of me it didn’t come out right, Harry. You could never make me feel uncomfortable. Please don’t feel embarrassed, love. I want you to touch me. I want you to touch me so badly, but I have to talk to you right now and I can’t if you’re kissing me because your lips and your body and just…” He raises his palms in the air, doing a little circle movement in front of Harry, “Just, all of you, Harry… You’re so beautiful and you’re so distracting and I can’t say the things that I need to say if you’re on top of me.”

Harry turns toward Louis then and Louis could just cry, because he can read the hurt on Harry’s face.

“Okay, Lou. I won’t… I won’t get on top of you.”

 _Fuck_.

Louis is already making a disaster out of this and he hasn’t even said the first thing to Harry. Carefully, Louis takes Harry’s hands in his own, stroking his thumbs over Harry’s soft skin and intertwining their fingers.

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, Harry,” he says, his voice weak and shaking.

Harry’s face relaxes just the tiniest bit and the faintest smile briefly flickers over his lips.

“I feel the same way about you, Louis. You’re my destiny,” he answers, but his voice is laced in sadness and hurt.

Louis closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Harry,” he groans, and just saying Harry’s name hurts; it hurts Louis so much because he’s so completely in love with this man and he just wants to show him that love. He wants to caress and kiss his body and press into him and hold him close until the end of time. Louis wants Harry. He wants him so much.

But he can’t have him.

“Talk to me, Louis,” Harry pleads, and Louis can tell he’s getting nervous. Louis has already managed to hurt his soul mate and make him feel anxious in a manner of minutes. He’s already fucking everything up and he has a dreadful premonition that his night is only going to get worse. He takes a deep breath and squeezes Harry’s hands tight and then forces himself to speak.

“Harry, we can’t… I can’t… We need to wait, Harry. I can’t make love to you… Not now anyway.”

Harry looks at Louis and his face his is riddled in confusion and shame and Louis hates himself for ever making Harry experience these terrible emotions.

“You’re joking, right Louis?” Harry asks, but his voice is serious and Louis knows that Harry already knows the answer to the question.

“No, darling. I’m not joking,” Louis replies. He slides in closer to Harry and sits fully on the couch so that their hips touch. Louis is completely desperate to be near him, aching for his scent and the warm heat of Harry’s body.

Harry scrubs his hands over his face and he stares at Louis for a long moment. Then he slowly shakes his head, his eyes wide and filled with regret as realization washes over him.

“Oh, Louis!” he suddenly cries, his voice strained. “I’m so sorry. You aren’t ready for this step and all I’ve done is beg you and push you to do something you don’t want and I’m just… I’m so ashamed, Lou. I can’t believe I treated you like this. I never ever want to force you into doing something you’re not prepared for or aren’t comfortable doing. Please forgive me, Louis!”

Without even knowing it, Harry is giving Louis an out. Harry is taking the blame for Louis not wanting to make love to him and if Louis didn’t care for Harry so deeply, he might actually run with it. He might agree that he’s not ready and let Harry think that trepidation is the reason why Louis is refusing him. It would be so easy and Louis wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences he knows await him if he tells Harry the truth. Harry is already blaming himself. He could just let Harry believe it’s his fault.

But Louis could never do such a terrible thing.

He loves Harry too much to ever let Harry suffer the burden of thinking he somehow was forcing himself on someone who was unsure and unprepared. Louis could never lie to the man he loves. He wants Harry desperately and Harry has never _ever_ made him feel uncomfortable. Louis has to take ownership of that fact.

“Hazza, no! It’s not you, I swear. You haven’t pushed me to do anything I don’t want to do.” He squeezes Harry’s hands. “We’re on the same page, darling… I just think it would be better if we waited, that’s all. I promise you; you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Harry's face falls.

He pulls his hands free from Louis’ and runs them over the top of his thighs, turning to face the fireplace. He doesn’t meet Louis’ eyes when he quietly asks, “Don’t you want me, Louis?”

Harry’s words make Louis’ stomach clench, the sick, nauseous feeling he’s been enduring on and off all day once again returning. How could he make the man he desperately loves think for even one second that he doesn’t want him? Louis is fucking everything up.

“I want you so badly I don’t know what to do with myself,” Louis answers truthfully. “I love you so much and I want you more than anything, Harry.”

“Then why are you pushing me away, Lou? This doesn’t make sense,” Harry whispers.

Louis lets out a heavy sigh.

“Because it’s the right thing to do, Hazza.”

Harry turns and looks at him then, his expression curious when he asks, “Wait a minute. Do you have some kind of _moral_ opposition to making love to me, Louis? Is this about religion or something, because I’m only speaking for myself, but this Afterlife business is a lot different than what I expected after a lifetime of Sunday services and so if you’re worried about being punished by a higher power or something –”

“No! No! I promise you, Harry. It’s nothing like that. Believe me, dying has made me realize that the people on Earth that are preaching about damnation and fire and brimstone and all of that other nonsense really don’t know what they’re talking about. It’s just that… I just think that this next step is massive and we shouldn’t make it unless we – ” Louis closes his eyes and he can’t believe he’s going to say the words he’s about to, but he positively has to be honest with Harry. He draws in a deep breath, in through the nose, out the mouth. “We shouldn’t take this step unless we both move forward, Harry.”

Harry turns to him and puckers his lips as if he’s going to speak and then his mouth slackens and falls open. He’s so gorgeous and Louis can only stare at him while Harry tries to formulate his thoughts. Finally, Harry utters one word: “What?”

“We shouldn’t make love unless we both move forward, Harry.”

Harry looks down at his lap and Louis can see it: the flash of anger that passes over Harry’s face. Harry takes a deep breath of his own, his voice sure but tinged in a hardness Louis hasn’t ever heard before and he looks Louis straight in the eyes.

“We’re moving forward together, Louis.”

“Darling, I know you believe that, and I hope it’s true, I really do, but –”

“We’re moving forward together!” Harry exclaims, his voice louder. He gets up from the sofa, standing directly in front of Louis, towering over him, actually. “We’re moving forward together, Louis,” he repeats, and this time the anger is coupled with exasperation and sadness. “Why the fuck don’t you believe that?”

“Harry, listen to me. I want to believe it; I want to believe it so much. But neither of us knows what is going to happen and I just think that if we share this intimacy, if we make love, and then I’m sent back to Earth… Well, you’ll be hurt, Harry. I know how much you love me and you’ll be hurt to the core and I’ll be reborn in a different body and when I come back here again I won’t even know you! I won’t know you at all and you’ll be all alone and it’s simply not fair to you, Harry. It’s not fair and I won’t hold you back that way!”

Louis is rambling. He’s trying to convey everything to Harry and he’s certain that he’s getting nothing across. He sounds like a weak and cowardly fool and Harry is just staring at him blankly, as if he can’t believe the nonsense Louis is spouting at him.

“Louis, you don’t know that you’re getting sent back to Earth. You have to be positive, please stop thinking like you’re doomed because you’re not. I _know_ you’re moving forward, Louis. I know we’re moving forward together! I’ve never been surer of anything in life or in death and you have to believe me; it’s going to happen. We’re both moving on to the next realm.”

“It’s not up to you, Harry!” Louis shouts. He stands from the couch and the two face one another and Louis hates this; he absolutely hates this so much. They’ve never so much as had the slightest disagreement and now they’re standing in the middle of Harry’s beautiful penthouse suite and they’re actually fighting and it’s worse than Louis could have ever imagined. His heart is beating in his chest and he’s so terrified and he loves Harry so fucking much and this is not what Louis wants. This is not what he wants at all.

Harry lowers his head, his voice sad when he asks. “Why don’t you believe in us, Louis?”

“I believe in you, Harry,” Louis answers, and he can feel the tears welling behind his eyes and how has this gotten so out of hand so fast? His voice is barely above a whisper when he adds, “I’m just not so sure that I believe in me.”

Harry looks up then and grips Louis’ shoulders. He stares at him for a minute without saying anything and then he pulls Louis into his arms, hugging him tightly. Louis just collapses into it, desperate to be encompassed in Harry’s love.

“Please don’t say that, Louis. Please. You have to believe in yourself. You’re the best person I’ve ever known and you deserve to move forward. We deserve to spend our eternity together and we’re going to! You can’t just shut me out because you’re scared of the unknown, Louis,” Harry pleads. “We’re a team and we’re in this together.”

“If I make love to you, I’ll only hurt you, Harry,” Louis whispers.

Harry pulls back and squints his eyes and points back and forth between Louis and himself. “How can showing me you love me, hurt me, Louis? Sharing love with another person is the greatest gift in the universe. I know that, and so do you.”

“Because, when – _if_ ,” Louis corrects. “If I’m sent back to Earth, you’ll have to spend eternity with nothing but a memory of the love we shared. You’ll be haunted with that memory and every day you’ll wake up with the knowledge that you’ll never have that kind of love again and I can’t do that to you!”

“You’re being ridiculous, Louis! I know in my heart that we’re moving forward and I hate that you don’t believe me.” He wraps his hands over Louis’ and jerks him close and Louis just wants to fall into him again. He wants Harry to once again wrap him in his arms and make him feel safe.

“You don’t know what’s going to happen, Harry,” Louis whispers.

“And neither do you, Louis! We only have one Review session left and we don’t even know how much time we’ll have after that session before they make our judgments. It could be immediate. We might not even have another lunch hour together, Louis. This might be our very last chance to be together before our fates are decided. Why would you want to waste this time? Why would you want to throw away this moment?”

Harry’s voice is pleading and desperate and Louis just wants to make Harry understand that he is doing this for _him_. He’s denying Harry this night they’ve planned for no other reason than so Harry won’t suffer should his soul mate be sent back to Earth. He’s doing this for Harry.

“Because I love you so much!” Louis cries.

“Well, did you ever think for one moment that maybe I would rather spend eternity with the memory of making love with you, than having to live with the anguish of having never experienced our love in the flesh? You’re totally wrong on all of this, Louis. We’re moving forward together and I know it, but on the impossibility that we don’t, I would want to know what it was like to be with you, Louis: to have you make love to me and to know how you felt moving inside me. I would want to know what it was like for the two of us to become one... I would want to know.” Harry chokes a stuttering breath and Louis can tell Harry is trying not to cry and then Harry’s voice drops in volume and Louis’ heart might just break when Harry says, “If I were to be sent back and you moved forward, Louis, wouldn’t you want to know what it was like to make love to me?”

“I-I…” Louis is fumbling. He’s searching his mind for an answer that isn’t going to come, because Harry is _not_ going to get sent back to Earth, but Louis feels it in his gut that he himself very well may. He draws in a deep breath because honestly, if the roles were reversed, Louis _would_ want to know. He wouldn’t care if he had to spend every day suffering the agony that Donald endures now; he would want to have the memory of making love to Harry. He’s desperate to know what it’s like to have Harry _right now,_ in this very moment, but then he thinks about Donald and what Mitchell told him about how Donald can’t allow himself to move on because he’s so wrapped in the long-gone love he shared with Jane and he knows that he cannot put that burden on Harry. Harry is too wonderful and too good and he deserves to love again, even if the thought of Harry with anyone else fills Louis with heartache. Louis would rather suffer that heartache now, than curse Harry to spending an eternity alone. Harry deserves every happiness in the world and love is the greatest happiness there is.

Louis doesn’t say a word, he just stares at the ground because he can’t admit the truth to Harry, because then Harry will have one hundred arguments as to why Louis is being silly and why they should spend the night together and Louis will give in, because Jesus Christ, he wants nothing more than to give in.

They are both breathing heavy, panting breaths, their chests rising and falling, and Louis thinks to himself that they should be breathing heavily because they are wrapped up in each other’s arms and loving every inch of each other’s bodies. Their rapid breaths should be because they are making each other moan and sweat and come. Not because they are fighting. Not because of this.

Finally, Harry speaks and his voice is so sad and he looks at Louis and Louis can barely face him, but he forces himself too, because Harry deserves as much.

“You wouldn’t want to know? You wouldn’t want to know what it’s like to make love to me, Lou?” Harry asks, and his face is stricken with pain and Louis hates himself.

“Harry, it’s not that simple, I promise, it’s just –”

“Why are you doing this, Louis?” Harry shouts, his voice full of anguish. “If you don’t want to fuck me: that’s fine. Just don’t give me this bullshit excuse!”

Louis recoils. Other than that first morning in the shower together, when Harry was so desperate for Louis’ fingers that he moaned about Louis “fucking him proper,” Harry has never referred to sex between the two of them as anything other than “making love”, and now, he’s reduced it to “fucking” and it reminds Louis of the detached way the artist used to talk about having sex with him and it hurts so much. He’s so sad and he’s so angry with himself for handling this entire situation so wrong and he doesn’t know how to fix it. He doesn’t even know if it can be fixed.

“Harry, I love you so much. Please… You’ve got to understand, I’m doing this for your own good.”

“My own good?” Harry huffs. “Our Reviews aren’t even over and the justices haven’t decided our fates yet, Louis. We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, and yet you’re over here creating scenarios of the worst possible kind and telling me you’re doing it for my own good. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? You don’t even ask for my input on this! You just decide that I’m weak and don’t deserve to have any say. I feel so stupid, Louis. I’m not going to beg you to fuck me.”

“Harry, I’m so sorry. Please don’t say that… Please don’t feel that way. You’re so wonderful and I love you so much and this is all my fault. I just… I just have to make this decision for both of us because it’s the right thing to do, Harry. I promise you, I’m doing the right thing, even if you can’t see it. You just don’t understand, love.”

Harry turns around then and looks Louis over slowly, letting out an exasperated sigh. Louis is positively buzzing, the rollercoaster of emotions the two of them are enduring sending electric currents through the air and making Louis dizzy, not to mention that his throat is burning with bile and he feels sick with worry and grief. Harry stares at him for several long beats and then his face goes soft and he once again pulls Louis into his arms. He presses kisses all over Louis’ face and forehead and lips and his voice is bordering on frantic when he begs, “Please. Then make me understand, Louis. Please don’t shut me out.”

Louis doesn’t want to shut Harry out, but he also doesn’t want to speak. He just wants to stand still and feel the comfort of Harry’s arms around his body, because he knows if he opens his mouth he’ll just ruin everything. Harry has so much faith and he believes without a doubt that he and Louis are moving forward together and Louis has been trying so desperately to latch onto that faith, to make it his own, but he has never quite gotten there. And now, after today’s disastrous Review sessions and his dinner with Donald and talk with Mitchell, he’s lost that faith completely.

“Harry,” Louis finally manages, his voice cracking. “I’m just so fucking scared, love. I’m terrified of getting sent back to Earth. I’m so afraid they’re going to make me leave you.”

“Louis,” Harry answers, his own voice broken. “Please, sweetheart. Please just believe in yourself. We don’t have to make love. We can just sit here all night and I’ll hold you in my arms if that’s what you want, but please, I’m begging you, Louis. Please, you have to believe this is all going to work out. You have to believe in yourself and you have to believe in us… Just… Just try for me, okay?”

“You don’t know what it’s like!” Louis cries and the tears are coming now. The first one spills over his cheek and then another one quickly follows suit. Louis wipes them away, willing himself to get his emotions under control, but he just feels so pathetic and he’s positively desperate to make Harry understand, but he knows in his heart he won’t be able to.

“I don’t know what _what’s_ like, Louis?” Harry pleads.

“My fucking Review!” Louis shouts. He pulls away from Harry then and for the first time since this conversation started, he actually is starting to feel frustrated, bordering on angry really, because no matter what Louis says, Harry just doesn’t get it. He shouldn’t fault him though. Harry can’t possibly understand when he’s led such an exemplary life that he’s been appointed a penthouse suite in the city’s finest hotel upon his death. Harry is too good and decent to ever know the kind of failures Louis regularly endured on Earth.

But just as quickly as these bitter thoughts fill Louis’ mind, Louis realizes that he has no right to take the frustration he suffers at his own shortcomings out on Harry, and he actually cringes because he’s acting so terrible toward him. Harry doesn’t deserve this.

_What the fuck am I thinking?_

Louis clutches both sides of his head, furious with himself. This isn’t Harry’s fault. It’s Louis’. If Louis hadn’t fucked so many things up on Earth, they wouldn’t be in this mess. But still, the frustration is there and it’s racing through Louis’ body, threatening to ignite something awful, threatening to explode.

Harry shakes his head and at first he looks so hurt that Louis just wants to collapse onto the floor and evaporate into dust, but then his face hardens and his voice is eerily calm when he says, “How the fuck am I supposed to know what is going on in your Review when you won’t even talk to me about it, Louis? You completely shut me down today, every time I mentioned our Reviews.” He lets out a rueful laugh that cuts Louis to the quick. “I pleaded with you to talk to me and instead of telling me what happened in your Review, you took me to the toilets and begged me to come back here so you could fuck me, and now, just a few hours later, when you have your chance to do just that, you don’t even want me and instead you bring up your fucking Review! Do you have any idea how confused you’re making me? Do you have any idea how hurt I feel? I don’t deserve these mind games, Louis.”

Louis’ mouth falls open and his eyes go wide, shocked by how cold and angry Harry sounds, but Harry is right: Louis did all of those things. Louis refused to talk about his Review every time Harry brought it up to him up, and just a few hours ago he _did_ beg Harry to come back to this very room so they could make love, and now Louis has flipped the tables entirely on him and it isn’t fair to Harry at all.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

“Harry, I’m sorry. I know I acted like an idiot today, but you don’t understand how hard my Review sessions were. You couldn’t possibly know.”

“And why is that, Louis? Do you think you have the market cornered on shitty Reviews?”

Louis huffs out a shocked laugh, because honestly if there is one person who _doesn’t_ know what Louis is going through in this terrible Review process, it’s Harry. The fact that Harry would make such a comment to Louis is the spark that lights the fuse and Louis feels anger begin to course through his body, his fury completely exacerbated by all of the anguish and sadness he’s endured during the day, and most of all by the love he’s terrified he’s going to lose.

Louis’ tone is sharp and his voice is clipped and sarcastic when he bites back, “Please Harry, don’t even _try_ to pretend you know what I’m going through. I hear the laughter coming through the walls of your Review Room. You even told me on the first day how ‘fun’ your Review was and every day since the revelry has grown louder. It sounds like you’re all having a fucking party in there.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Louis regrets them.

Harry’s face instantly falls and he looks like he’s been physically struck, the hurt caused by Louis’ hateful words written in his wounded expression. His lips start to tremble and his eyes begin to water and he makes a choked sobbing sound and the first tears roll down his beautiful cheeks and Louis wants to take it all back. He wants to take back what he said more than anything because Harry has been nothing but wonderful to him and he loves him so much and how could Louis hurt him like this?

“Harry, I didn’t mean it!” Louis pleads, he extends his arms and reaches for Harry, but Harry steps back, avoiding Louis’ touch. “I don’t know what came over me, darling. Please forgive me. I swear to you, I’m happy your sessions are going so well. I’m so proud that you lived such an honorable life and that your Review panel loves you. I’m just so –”

Louis stops midsentence, because Harry turns on his heels and walks away from him. He marches toward his bedroom, Louis following close behind, begging Harry to listen to him, pleading for his forgiveness. He reaches out and grabs Harry’s elbow, but Harry tugs it away harshly. He takes four, angry strides and swings the double doors to his bedroom wide open and steps inside and Louis is just about to follow him across the threshold when he stops in his tracks, a loud gasp escaping his lips.

Louis is completely shocked, the care and effort that was put into what he sees before him takes his breath away. His heart pounds in his chest because what Harry has done for him is so beautiful and perfect that Louis is overwhelmed with love and gratitude because he can’t believe he has someone would do something so special for him. But then his pounding heart clenches hard, and the love and gratitude is pushed out, and his body is filled to overflowing with anguish and regret at the realization of what he’s ruined.

 _Harry’s surprise_.

The tears that had temporarily subsided start flowing again and Louis just stands there and lets them fall, because he’s such a fucking fool and he’s destroyed everything that matters and he doesn’t know how he was lucky enough to ever have had Harry, even for a few days, but he certainly doesn’t deserve him now. Not tonight, and maybe never again.

All of the lights are turned off in the bedroom and given the hour, the room’s interior should be very dark. But the room isn’t dark at all. In fact, Harry’s bedroom is positively glowing, every inch of space illuminated with the warm, dancing light of dozens of candles that rest on nearly every flat surface and every free available space. The candles are in various shapes and sizes including pillars, tapers, and little glass platters covered in votives. Some candles are short and fat, while others are tall and thin. There are square candles and round candles, and dozens of tea lights, and the candles sit on the coffee table in the little seating area and on the nightstands on either side of Harry’s bed. Candles rest on Harry’s dresser, and are perched high on the bureau. Every single candle is alight with a flickering flame and Louis can’t imagine how long it took Harry to light them all, he’s sure Marta and Serena helped, but still, they’re utterly beautiful and the warm glow they cast throughout the room is absolutely breathtaking.

If Louis wasn’t so ashamed of himself for hurting the wonderful creature that arranged this romantic setting for him, he might notice that Harry’s bedroom suite is grand in both scale and décor. Continuing with the Art Deco theme, its walls are covered in patterned blue and gold wallpaper, threaded with black accents. The furnishings are comprised of exquisitely crafted pieces of polished walnut and include a large dresser, bureau, and, massive four-poster bed with matching night tables. There is a small seating area boasting a silk-upholstered sofa and complimentary side chairs that surround a square coffee table. Large windows run along one wall and overlook Judgment City, but Harry has pulled the shear curtains closed so all that’s visible are soft, muted lights, illuminating the curtains from behind. To the right of the seating area is set of wide-open double doors that lead to the en suite, and if Louis were paying proper attention to his surroundings, he could see from his position by the bedroom doors that the bathroom is enormous and outfitted with a huge Jacuzzi tub that would comfortably accommodate two adults, along with a walk-in shower, marble sinks and a separate toilet closet.

But Louis barely notices any of this, because all he can see are the thoughtful touches done to make this night special for them both. He stands frozen in the doorway, his heart beating madly in his chest.

Harry’s efforts did not stop at creating a romantic ambiance with candlelight.

On the nightstand to the left of Harry’s bed is a large ice bucket containing a bottle of fine champagne, and two crystal champagne flutes rest on the table beside the bucket, behind a platter of chocolate covered strawberries.

And oh, fuck, the bed.

_The bed. Holy Christ, the bed._

Louis draws in another anguished gasp when his eyes fall onto the bed, because not only does it look beautiful and inviting: made up in crisp white linens and a fluffy white duvet, but the surface of the bed is covered in rose petals in breathtaking shades of shades of pink, orange, and red.

Louis has never seen a room that is more beautiful or more romantic and Harry did this all for him. And Louis fucked it all up.

Louis just stands in the doorway and stares, trying to find the words to apologize, trying to make Harry understand that he’s just trying to protect him, but instead of opening his mouth, he just watches helplessly as Harry walks over to his nightstand and cups his hands behind the flame of one of the tall pillar candles that sits atop its surface. There are tears falling down Harry’s face but he doesn’t say anything, he just leans over and blows out the flame and the action is like a sharp needle puncturing Louis’ chest and piercing straight through his heart.

Harry repeats the process with the remaining candles on the nightstand and each time he blows one out, Louis feels another sharp needle prick penetrate his body because he has never experienced anything so terrible as watching the man he loves methodically undo the romantic gesture that he painstakingly put together just for him. With each candle Harry blows, his efforts at making this a special night for Louis are dismantled and Louis feels a physical ache, terrified that the more candles Harry extinguishes, the less he will love him.

Harry finishes blowing out the candles on the far night table and he flicks on the bedside lamp and walks over to the coffee table and begins to extinguish all of those candles as well.

There is music playing and Louis’ recognizes a love song that was popular in the months before he died and as his eyes scan over the room in awe, he realizes that the music is emitted from a small box that sits on Harry’s dresser. As the song comes to an end, another song starts and Louis recognizes it immediately as the ridiculous pop song that Harry sang to Louis when they were in bed together the night before and it hits him that in addition to the candles and champagne and rose petals, Harry created a special playlist for he and Louis to listen to while they made love and he included this song to make them both laugh. Louis can’t believe how much effort Harry put into making this night special and he has no idea how he managed to pull it off in so short of time and Louis opens his mouth to tell him just that, but Harry walks over to the stereo and slams his palm on top of it and the music stops and Louis thinks he might just crumble to the floor.

Louis closes his eyes and he just wants to die, but he doesn’t have that option because he’s already dead.

_But for how long?_

Finally, Louis clears his throat and he starts to speak. His voice is choked with tears, his breathing heavy, but he speaks nonetheless.

“Harry, this is so beautiful and I just...” Louis runs his palm over the back of his neck, trying to find the proper words to convey how much what Harry has done means to him, but he knows that’s not even possible. He wipes at his eyes, continuing, “Nobody has ever done anything remotely as thoughtful and romantic as this for me, love. I’m so overwhelmed. Please stop blowing out the candles, darling; they’re so beautiful and you worked so hard. Can we just... Can we please just talk, Harry?”

“I feel so stupid,” Harry mutters and he wipes his hands over his face, brushing away his tears. He walks over to his dresser and begins extinguishing the candles that are scattered over its surface, completely ignoring Louis’ request, the sharp sting of each puff of air Harry blows against the flames stabbing Louis in the chest. “You think I’m just breezing through this entire process. It’s like I have no substance at all, Louis,” Harry says, his voice hard. He doesn’t look up as he speaks, he just continues the task at hand and avoids looking at Louis, who stands slumped against the bedroom doorframe, unable to stand upright on his own.

“Please don’t say that Harry. I didn’t mean what I said. Please forgive me. I’m just so fucking scared about my own Review and I took it out on you and I was so wrong.”

Harry stops what he’s doing then and he looks at Louis and his face is a whirling sea of emotions; he looks angry and hurt and heartbroken and Louis wants to look away because he’s so devastated that he’s done this to Harry that he feels like his chest is in a vice and it’s just being squeezed tighter and tighter, threatening to shatter into a million little pieces. But he doesn’t look way from Harry. He’s already caused him enough hurt, the very least he can do is face him and give him the attention he deserves.

“Do you want to know what hurts the most, Louis?” Harry asks, and Louis doesn’t want to know because he hates himself for being so awful that Harry has an entire list of options for the ways that Louis has caused him pain.

“You didn’t even bother to ask me about my Review,” Harry continues and he draws in a shuddering breath in an attempt to control the tears that keep falling. “You didn’t ask me after our morning sessions and you certainly didn’t ask me at the end of the day after our afternoon sessions ended. It was like you didn’t even care about my experience at all. I tried to talk to you about _my_ Review twice, Louis.” He points his index finger at his own chest and exclaims, “Twice! And both times that I brought it up you shut me down. Your indifference hurt me so much, Louis!”

“Oh, Harry,” Louis gasps and he feels so full of shame because Harry is right, Louis didn’t ask him about his Review and what kind of selfish shit thing was that, especially after Harry stood in the hallway and held him and comforted him after his morning session without saying a word? Louis then realizes that Harry held him in his arms and comforted him following their afternoon sessions, too. He whispered to Louis that things would be okay and he wrapped him in his warmth and he showed him how much he loved him and Louis didn’t even bother to ask Harry how he was feeling, he was so caught up in his own suffering that he neglected the person he loves most in the world.

“I’m so, so sorry, Harry. I was selfish and I was only thinking about myself.” Louis’ voice is earnest when he speaks, but he knows his words aren’t enough. He forces himself to stand upright. He doesn’t think he should enter the bedroom or approach Harry, he certainly hasn’t earned that right, but he wants to be near him, just the same. “I’m so ashamed of myself for how I acted today. I’m a fucking idiot and I don’t deserve to have you– ”

“Stop it, Louis,” Harry interjects, his tone harsh. “You don’t get to hurt my feelings and then put yourself down so I’ll feel guilty and shitty on top of it. I spent four years of my life on Earth with someone who pulled that very trick, and I won’t put up with it again.”

Louis draws back, surprised. “Harry, I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty, I –” He stops himself, because maybe Harry is right. It’s unfair of Louis to try to deflect any of the blame for the hurtful things he said to Harry, and for the way he neglected Harry’s feelings all day. “You’re right, Harry. I’m sorry,” Louis whispers.

Harry continues blowing out the candles and when he gets to nightstand on the side of the room closest to Louis he once again faces him.

“There may have been laughter during my morning session, Louis, but did you hear any during the afternoon?”

Louis’ eyes go wide and his mind races. Louis’ afternoon session was intense and he wasn’t paying attention to anything outside of his Review Room, but still, every time there has been laughter in Harry’s room, Louis has heard it. It’s almost like its instinctual and he’s drawn to the sound. This afternoon, the walls that separate their two Review Rooms were quiet, no laughter passed through. He thinks about the way Harry was so distracted when he ran into him outside of the loo and he remembers the little flickers of pain that passed over his face when Louis’ told him he didn’t want to talk about their “bloody Reviews,” and Louis’ gut clenches. He swallows thickly.

“No, Harry, I didn’t hear any laughter this afternoon.”

“That’s because my session was terrible, Louis,” Harry answers and he looks skyward to avoid Louis shocked stare, his tears continuing to fall. Louis makes a step to go to him but Harry puts out his hand, stopping Louis in his tracks.

“You’re right in that up until today, my sessions weren’t overly taxing, Louis. I can be honest and admit that at first I actually had a pretty easy go and yes, I stupidly even called my first session ‘fun’. But this afternoon’s session was entirely different, Louis. It was like Arnold saved up my worst failure for today and I had to sit there and watch my weakness onscreen and then I had to relive it and try to defend myself for acting like such a coward.”

As Harry speaks his voice grows louder and more frantic, and the tears fall faster, dripping down his cheeks and onto his chest. Louis just wants to hold him so badly, but he knows Harry will only push him away. “Today’s Review session was the worst experience I’ve had since that fucking coma and I just wanted to share it with you, Louis. I just needed to share that experience with you and I needed _you_ to hold _me_ ; I needed you to make _me_ feel better for once, but you didn’t even want to listen. You didn’t even care. And then, you come here tonight and when I once again bring up my Review you don’t ask me how it went or how I felt about it, instead you laugh at me and you make a snarky comment about it being a party. Well, I promise you, Louis, there wasn’t a fucking party going on in my Review Room this afternoon.”

Louis wrenches a loud sob. How could he be so thoughtless and cruel to Harry? He’s such an idiot for taking Harry for granted and disregarding his feelings. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself and he certainly doesn’t blame Harry if he never forgives him either.

“I’m so bloody sorry, Harry! Please! Please tell me what happened. I want to know. I want to help you. I’m so sorry I shut you out! I’ve acted such a fool today. You have to know how sorry I am.”

Harry just shakes his head sadly. He turns and walks past Louis and disappears into the en suite, returning a moment later with a small silver trash bin under his arm. He leans over the bed and Louis feels like the piercing needles he felt in his chest each time Harry blew out a candle have now caused his heart to completely shatter, because Harry begins using his free hand to sweep the rose petals off the bed and into the trash bin and Louis is sure the broken shards of his heart are being thrown away with them.

Louis clutches his chest but he’s unable to do or say anything. He’s riddled with shame and remorse and regret. He just wants to rewind this entire day and start all over again, but he can’t.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” he manages, his voice broken. “I love you so much, you have to believe me.”

Harry stops what he’s doing and he looks up at Louis and other than the tears that are starting to slow but still streak his cheeks, his expression is unreadable.

“I love you too, Louis,” he answers, his voice gravely. For a moment, Louis feels a wave of relief, because maybe he hasn’t ruined everything and maybe this night can be salvaged, after all. They can talk it out and they can hold each other and Louis can make Harry understand how much he loves him and how sorry he is for the way he acted. He can properly explain to Harry why they can’t make love until after their Reviews and Harry will finally get it and he’ll know Louis is right and that he has to guard his heart. He so desperately wants to wrap his arms around Harry that his fingers are tingling and his body is trembling. Louis starts to walk toward him but Harry once again raises his palm to stop him and when Harry speaks, it’s not to say anything Louis wants to hear, instead what he says is: “But I want you to leave.”

“Wh-what?” Louis asks, because he couldn’t have heard Harry correctly. Harry wouldn’t ask him to leave. Never in a million years would Harry send Louis away. It’s simply not possible.

Harry looks at Louis and his expression is blank, his affect dull when he says, “Please don’t make me repeat myself, Louis. This evening has been miserable enough and I can’t bear the thought of saying those words again. I need to be alone. Please respect my wishes.”

The walls are crashing down on Louis now and he feels the same type of agonizing grief he felt while watching his _Five in Five_ video. His body aches with the loss of what he can no longer have and this time he’s not yearning for his family or his friends, although just the thought of them sends another sharp shot of pain through Louis’ chest, but this time, Louis is aching for Harry.

But he’s not going to fight against Harry’s wishes.

He’s going to honor Harry’s request and he’s going to pray that he will at least get to see him again before this whole thing is over.

Louis is so unworthy. He doesn’t deserve to move forward, but before he’s sent back to Earth, he at least wants to be able to give Harry a proper goodbye. But maybe Harry doesn’t even want a ‘goodbye’ from Louis. Maybe Harry Styles is already done with Louis Tomlinson. It’s probably a good thing, really. Louis stands at the threshold of Harry’s bedroom, his whole being broken, but perhaps this was how it was meant to happen all along. Louis knew when he first entered The Ambassador Hotel this evening that he was going to let Harry down. He knew he was going to hurt him, but he hoped that in doing so, he would be sparing Harry a far greater hurt when their fates are decided. Now, if Louis is sent back to Earth, Harry won’t suffer the terrible burden of being anchored to his absent soul mate. Harry can meet someone and fall in love and be happy. Louis loves him so much and more than anything, he wants to save Harry the heartache Donald has spent over a century enduring. 

Harry looks back down at his bed and begins picking up the stray rose petals that he missed, his hand trembling as he tosses them into the bin.

“Okay, love,” Louis finally replies, his voice broken. “I-I… Well, Of course I’ll do as you asked, Harry. I’m going to go now...”

Harry doesn’t look up.

Louis takes a step back so he’s standing outside Harry’s room, but he can’t tear his eyes away from him just yet. Harry sets the trash bin on the floor and he places both hands on his mattress. He closes his eyes and his fingers clutch at his duvet.

“Goodbye, Harry,” Louis whispers, but Harry still doesn’t lift his head or try to meet Louis’ gaze. His chest is rising and falling rapidly and Louis sees a fresh tear fall down Harry’s face and drop onto the duvet below.

“I love you, darling,” Louis says, his voice a lowly cry, and then he turns quickly and moves as fast as he can across the massive suite, each step expanding the distance between him and Harry until he finally reaches the double doors to Harry’s penthouse, pulling them open and rushing through.

Despite the heavy pounding of his empty, broken heart, Louis closes the doors quietly; the last thing he wants is for Harry to hear those doors slam. He’s about to turn away when he suddenly stops and places his palms on the cold wooden panel of the left door. He leans his forehead against it and then turns so his cheek is flush against the cool wood. He thinks he can hear the sound of Harry’s feet padding across the marble floor in his penthouse and Louis knows he has to get out of there right then because he told Harry he would leave and it’s not fair to Harry if Louis is hanging around outside of his door, listening to him move, thinking about his beautiful body cleaning up the mess that Louis left behind. He runs across the hall to the lift and jabs at the _Down_ button repeatedly, praying he can keep himself under control until he can get out of this fucking five-star hotel and onto the street. Louis stands there helpless, trying not to sob as he waits and finally, after what seems like an eternity, the bell chimes and the doors to the lift open. Louis steps inside and presses the button for the lobby and then cradles his face in his hands as the lift doors close, a loud sob escaping his throat that he tries to swallow down. He just needs to get back to his own hotel, to his own room, and then he can break down properly.

Louis can’t see the doors to Harry’s suite from inside the lift and even if he could, his face is buried in his hands and his eyes are closed, so he doesn’t notice those doors slowly sneaking open. In addition, the lift doors squeak as they close and that, coupled with the noise of his own heavy, panting breaths and pounding heartbeat completely obscure the sound of his name whispered in a deep and anguished honeyed voice; the soft cry of “Lou,” failing to even register Louis’ ears.

The doors fully close and the lift descends.

Louis’ lift car arrives on the ground floor and he looks both ways before disembarking, terrified of running into Marta or Serena. Mercifully, they are nowhere in sight and Louis scurries quickly across the vast expanse of the lobby of The Ambassador, avoiding eye contact with any and every one as he makes his way toward the hotel’s main entrance. The two doormen are still standing on duty and Louis barely acknowledges them as he pushes his way through the double doors and out onto the foot-pavement, his heart racing in his chest.

Finally, finally, he can take a breath.

Louis bends over, his hands clenching his kneecaps, his chest heaving, but he only gives himself a minute to feel the pain before he forces himself upright. He’s almost home. He only has a short walk to The Regency and he makes his way as fast as he can. Before he knows it, Louis is entering the lobby of his own hotel and looking around suspiciously for anyone who will intrude on his desperately needed solitude. He approaches the lifts and hits the _Up_ button and almost immediately, the doors to the car at the very end of the hall open and Louis rushes to it, running inside, grateful as he climbs on board. He pushes the button for the twelfth floor, his heart pounding. He’s almost there. Louis only has a little further to go and then he’ll have some privacy: he’ll be alone in his room and he can collapse and cry and let his feelings out, but he can’t do that just yet.

The lift bell chimes and Louis is panting, the anxiety he feels physically manifesting itself in a layer of perspiration that saturates every inch of his skin. His body is aching and his grief is all consuming; he just needs to let it out. The doors to the lift open and Louis rushes out, not even looking where he is going, desperate to get to Room 1215, when he collides into another body, both of them stumbling backwards before regaining their footing.

Margaret.

“Oh, Louis, I’m so sorry!” she cries, and then she looks at Louis who stares at her in shock, his mouth open and his eyes wide, his body trembling all over. “Oh, dear,” she says softly in understanding. She holds out her arms and Louis draws in a gasp and freezes momentarily before collapsing into them.

He lets himself go.

Louis’ entire body shudders and he’s wracked with tears. He clutches onto Margaret and she holds him close, patting his back and sweetly whispering, “There, there, love, it will be all right, I promise, Louis. Let it out.”

Louis chokes a loud sob and he does exactly what Margaret says; he lets it out. He cries over his own broken heart and most of all, he cries for the pain he’s caused Harry. For the thousandth time this evening he thinks about how much he loves Harry and his body is wracked in misery for hurting him so deeply. He doesn’t think he can ever forgive himself and then he feels a fresh wave of pain at the thought that no act of contrition will even matter if he’s sent back to Earth. Tomorrow at this time, he might be a newborn baby and Harry will be forever lost to him.

It just hurts so much.

Margaret whispers to Louis how he needs to be strong and Louis burrows his head against Margaret’s soft shoulder and lets out an anguished cry. Margaret is so kind to him and Louis is deeply grateful, but more than anything, Louis wishes the reassuring words that are being sweetly spoken to him were coming from his own mother.

 _I want my mum_.

And he does, oh god, Louis wants his mum so desperately. In this terrible moment when his heart is broken and he’s so ashamed of the pain he’s caused the person he loves best, Louis wishes for nothing more than to be held in his mother’s loving arms. He squeezes his eyes tight and lets out a heaving breath and just for a minute, he lets himself believe that he’s being wrapped in his mother’s warmth and not in the arms of this sweet woman he’s known only for a few days time.

Louis gets lost in the memory of all of the times his mother comforted him when he suffered embarrassment, pain, or heartache, and suddenly he can smell his mum’s favorite perfume and can feel’s the soft tickle of her long hair dancing over his cheek. He feels his mum’s lips press a tender kiss to his forehead like she always did when she held him in her arms, her whispered reassurance of “it will all work out,” passing through his mind, and Louis is comforted.

“I fucked everything up,” he mumbles and Margaret holds Louis tighter, patting his shoulder in understanding. “I love him so much and I hurt him and how am I supposed to live with what I’ve done? How am I supposed to go on without him, even if it’s only for one more night?”

“Louis,” Margaret coos, and Louis is momentarily caught off guard because for the briefest second, he expected to hear his mum’s voice. “Harry loves you. All couples quarrel, love. This must be your first fight. You’ll get through this. I have faith in both of you.”

Louis pulls back and looks at Margaret and she offers him a kind smile.

“D-do you mean it, Margaret?” Louis asks, desperate for some encouragement.

“Of course I do,” she replies. “I’ve never seen two people more madly in love than you and Harry. That doesn't just stop, Louis. I promise you.”

Louis draws in several stuttering breaths and makes kitten paws with the sleeves of his tupa, dragging the material over his eyes and wiping away his tears.

“I love him so much,” he whispers.

“He loves you, Louis,” Margaret answers, her voice confident. “You’re both going to be okay, dear,” she says and she sounds positively sure of herself.

“I-I should go to my room,” Louis answers, still unsure. “I just want this night to be over.”

Margaret takes both of Louis’ hands in her own. “That sounds like a good idea, dear. Try to get some rest. Things will be better tomorrow, I promise.”

Louis nods his head, although he’s not sure he agrees. He apologies to Margaret for his rampant emotions and then he pulls her close and hugs her tightly.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I needed a hug and some comfort and I can’t thank you enough for giving that to me.”

Margaret pulls back and runs her fingers through Louis’ fringe, smoothing it to the side.

“You remind my son, Martin, Louis. I miss him very much.”

Louis nods in understanding.

Margaret wipes a stray tear that falls from her own eyes and then draws in a deep breath. “Now off you go,” she jokes lightly, obviously trying to break the tension. “Get to bed and get a good night’s sleep, Louis. I won’t have you staying up all night.”

Louis smiles.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers. Margaret steps onto the lift and pushes one of the buttons inside and Louis steps back, watching as the doors close and Margaret disappears from his view.

He’s completely exhausted.

Louis turns then and walks to his room, pressing his thumb on the keypad and unlocking the door. He walks inside and looks around; his accommodations feel so empty without Harry.

Louis continues to cry quietly as he strips out of his tupa, down to his pants, and pulls back the covers to his bed, crawling beneath them without so much as using the loo or brushing his teeth.

He closes his eyes and thinks about all of the things that have happened during the course of this one day and Louis suffers the burning ache of regret at all that he has destroyed.

Harry should be spread out below him right now, lying atop fragrant rose petals and bathed in the soft glow of dozens of candles while Louis presses into him, their kisses tasting like champagne and chocolate and strawberries. Harry is Louis' destiny, and it seems like they’ve both spent their entire lifetimes on Earth waiting for this night to bring them together, only for it all to fall apart.

Louis lays on his side and curls into a tight ball, his body wracked with guilt and grief, his mind lost in thoughts of Harry as he quietly cries himself to sleep, sure that he has ruined everything.

 


	17. The Drowning Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading this story. I greatly appreciate those who are subscribing to this work, as well as all of those who have made such nice comments about the piece, or offered kudos. I'm always so excited to read what you all have to say about what is going on in the Afterlife. :)  
> In regards to this chapter: When I hit 38K words, I knew it was much too long, so I split it in two and this is the first half. The second half (Chapter 18) is probably my favorite part of the story so far, so I'm very excited to get it posted and hope to have it up very shortly. I just have to do some polishing up and get it off to my beta for edits and then it will be good to go.  
> Again, thanks to everyone who is reading! Peace, love, and Larry!

_Louis is running._

_The fog swirls all around him, obstructing his field of vision as his feet carry him as fast as they can toward the train station. He narrowly avoids crashing into a small group of Residents who are stood in a circle in the drive that leads to the main gate, but he keeps moving, not even slowing to offer an apology._

_He hears someone shouting at him._

_“You there! No Intakes allowed beyond the entry gate; you’re going to get hurt!”_

_Louis ignores the warning because he knows that if he stops the person behind that voice will catch up to him and they’ll no doubt send him back to his hotel and he can’t let that happen. He has to reach Harry; he has to keep moving._

_He approaches a huge, glittering archway bearing a sign that reads, “Welcome New Residents!” and he takes a deep breath, anticipation wrenching his gut, and then he runs straight through, his body immediately seizing as he feels a jolt of electric current blast through him: a traveling circuit from the tips of his toes to the top of his head that causes his hair to momentarily stand on end. He falls to his knees, his entire body reverberating with searing pain, his appendages burning like they are shooting fireworks._

_But even worse than the pain is that something about the jolt of current has triggered the sleepiness he’s desperately been trying to keep at bay and he knows that if he stays there for even a minute to recover, he’ll give in and he can’t let that happen. He can’t fall asleep. He places his palms on the ground and the contact hurts, his skin burning and sensitive from the electric shock. But despite the searing discomfort, he pushes himself up and looks around, temporarily disoriented because the fog has suddenly gotten so much thicker. He takes a moment trying to determine the proper direction to the train platforms and thankfully, the aftereffects of the electric current start to dissipate and he shakes out his hands, trying to get his circulation flowing, the sharp pain now an uncomfortable tingling sensation. He hears the sound of steel wheels pounding as they glide across the tracks and he follows the noise, continuing onward._

_He makes his way to the train platform and then the fog lifts just enough so that he sees him; he sees Harry. Louis tries to shout, tries to scream out Harry’s name, but it’s like his vocal chords are paralyzed and all he can deliver is a harsh squeaking noise that he’s not even sure is audible because his brain feels jumbled, like he’s stoned or drunk._

_Harry is stood about ten meters away, his body in profile as he stands in line with other similarly attired passengers, waiting for his turn to climb onto the train that will transport him to the next realm. He’s dressed in a tupa but it’s somehow different than the one Louis wears. The fabric is silken and it emits an iridescent glow that shimmers in the dusk sky. Harry’s face is wet with tears and he looks brokenhearted, but he’s still so beautiful, and Louis’ heart clenches in his chest. A porter approaches Harry then and escorts him to the doors at the front of the train cabin and Harry steps up onto the lowest platform and climbs on board, disappearing from Louis’ view._

_Louis again tries to call Harry’s name and this time he has a bit more control, but still, the sound is garbled and what comes out is a low cry of, “Herr.” He takes a deep breath, willing himself to get it right. “Harry!” Louis shouts, and this time he knows he’s said it proper. He takes a few staggering steps toward the train’s entrance, so tired he can barely move and then he hears it: a soft pounding noise. He looks to his left and sees Harry behind the glass of one of the train’s large windows, his fists beating on it frantically, his voice muffled as he cries Louis’ name._

_Louis’ heart beats rapidly in his chest and just seeing Harry this close helps him and he feels a little more alert. He steps toward the window and calls out to Harry again, and Harry presses his hand against the glass and ever so briefly, Louis’ own hand meets his from the other side._

_“You can’t be here, sir!”_

_Louis turns toward the voice and it’s coming from a porter who is walking quickly toward him and Louis knows he has to run. He pulls his hand away from the window and Harry once again begins to pound on its surface._

_“Louis! Louis!” he shouts, his voice sounding like a whispered scream, the thick glass from the window and Louis’ clouded consciousness muting the sound until it’s barely audible._

_“Harry!” Louis cries as he turns and quickly surveys his surroundings, trying to determine which direction to run because even though he knows he must flee, he can’t allow himself to lose sight of Harry’s train._

_The banging gets louder._

“Louis, please!”

Louis sits up in bed, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind completely disoriented and still partially lingering in a sleep state. His body is trembling and his skin feels icy cold and clammy. He reaches out and somehow manages to flick on his bedside lamp, his fingertips sharply stinging as if he’s touched a live wire. He looks around and hears the banging again, the noise he’s hearing the sound of a closed fist furiously knocking on his hotel door.

“Please, Lou. Please, let me in,” comes a muffled cry.

 _Harry_.

Louis quickly pushes off his covers and jumps out of bed, adrenaline pumping as he rushes to the sound of Harry’s voice. But Louis’ legs are like Jell-O and he immediately falls when his feet hit the carpet, crashing onto the floor with a loud thud, pain shooting through his shoulder and right knee where he makes heavy contact.

“Sweetheart, are you okay? I can hear you!” Harry pleads, and it’s obvious he’s trying not to yell so as not to disturb the other hotel guests, but he sounds absolutely frantic.

“Herr,” Louis mumbles, trying to form words. He pushes himself up off the floor, shaking off the pain from the fall, vaguely aware that his palms and the pads of his feet feel like they’re burning as he takes fumbling steps down the small hallway that leads to the entrance of his suite. Despite the desire to get to Harry, his movements are slow and his mind is cloudy as if he’s in some kind of heavily medicated, drugged-out fog. It’s all so strange. Louis never experienced this kind of suspended state of semi-consciousness when he awoke from a bad dream on Earth.

“Louis, please! Open the door!” Harry cries, followed by three more raps on the hard wooden surface.

Louis reaches out for the handle, but his hand is shaking and his palm is damp and at first his hand slips right off the polished metal knob. He wipes his hand on the thin fabric of his pants and reaches out and tries again, finally pulling the door open to reveal Harry on the other side.

At first, the two just stand there: both their chests heaving, their bodies frozen and their eyes locked on one another. Harry’s eyes are glassy and red-rimmed and his nose is pink and it’s obvious he’s been crying and Louis is certain he bears the same look.

Finally, after what seems an eternity, Harry speaks.

“I could hear you, Lou,” he says, his voice choked and breaking. “You were calling my name. You were having another nightmare, weren’t you?”

Slowly, Louis nods his head, but he doesn’t speak because Harry is standing before him and he looks as miserable as Louis feels and Louis didn’t think he’d ever get to see him again. He can feel the cry bubbling from deep within and he draws in a shuddering breath, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to form words.

“H-Harry!” he finally stutters and his legs start to buckle, his body still weak from the lingering traces of his dream. Harry reaches out and grabs him and pulls him into his arms, supporting his body fully and holding him impossibly close.

“I’m here, Lou. I’m here,” Harry answers and he presses kisses to the top of Louis’ head and brow.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Louis cries, his voice thick. Harry squeezes Louis tight, his voice filled with remorse when he speaks.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing, Louis. I’m such an arsehole. I sent you away! How could I ever send you away? I’ll never forgive myself for how I acted.”

Louis shakes his head, his cheek pressed against Harry’s shoulder as tears stream down his face. Harry’s large hands are spread over Louis’ naked back and they feel so warm and welcome, in utter contrast to the guilt Louis feels in the pit of his gut. Finally, the last remnants of the heavy fog dissipate and his body and mind reach total clarity and he looks into Harry’s eyes as he speaks.

“You were right to send me away,” he mutters, shaking his head. “All that you did for me… Your beautiful surprise… I ruined all of it, Harry. I’m so ashamed.”

Harry once again pulls Louis in close and then starts to slowly rock their bodies from side to side. “We both made mistakes, Lou,” he replies and he presses a long kiss to Louis’ temple.

The two stand entwined quietly as the minutes pass, reveling in each other’s touch. Louis is just so grateful to be back in Harry’s arms that he wishes this moment could last forever. He feels a suffocating anxiety that their time together is fleeting and it’s so consuming that he doesn’t even realize that his body is trembling, and has been since he woke from his nightmare. “Louis,” Harry whispers, “What were you dreaming, sweetheart? You’re still shaking.”

Louis burrows his head into the crook of Harry’s neck. He doesn’t want to even think about his nightmare, much less share it with Harry, but he spent the entire day keeping things from him and that must stop right now.

“I dreamed that you were leaving me, Harry. You were moving forward and I was getting sent back to Earth and so I had to leave you, too. But… but I couldn’t let you go.” He lets out a lowly cry. “I didn’t want to leave you! I _don’t_ want to leave you! I’m so afraid they’re going to break us apart.”

“Oh Louis,” Harry replies and he runs one large hand up and down Louis’ back to soothe him. “I’m so sorry, love. You must have been so frightened. But it was just a bad dream. I promise you, it was only a dream.”

“But it was so real!” Louis cries. Softly, he adds, “My fingers are still tingling…” his voice tapering off at the end. He curls his fingers in the fabric of Harry’s tupa, hanging on to Harry with everything he has in him.

“I wish I could make you believe that it was only a dream and we’re moving forward together, Louis. I want so much for you to believe in yourself. I know how frightened you’ve been, and tonight you tried to tell me and I didn’t even let you talk about it. I was such a hypocrite! I got angry with you for not listening to me earlier in the day and then I did the very same thing to you tonight.”

“No, Haz. You didn’t. I was the one who was wrong. I handled everything so poorly… The snarky comment I made about your Review… The way I ignored your feelings all day. I can’t believe how insensitive I was. I’m just so terribly sorry.”

“We could have both done things differently,” Harry reiterates.

Louis doesn’t for a minute believe that Harry should be taking any of the blame for what happened between them, because Louis is the one who spent the day acting like a bloody idiot, but Harry is right in that they each did things they now regret.

Harry begins to rock Louis again, the two still standing between the open door to Louis’ suite. “I was so selfish,” Harry continues. “I was only thinking of myself tonight. I just wanted you so badly, Louis, and when you told me you didn’t want me – ” Harry cuts himself off, letting out a heavy sigh, his voice sad. “I guess I just felt rejected and angry… I’m just… I’m so sorry.”

“But I did want you, Harry!” Louis lifts his head, his eyes searching Harry’s face. “I wanted you so much… I always want you,” he adds, his voice hushed. “I swear I was just trying to protect you.” He averts his eyes, fingering along the silky material of Harry’s belt, adding quietly, “I know you don’t want to hear it, Harry, but I just don’t want you to be hurt – if I should get sent back to Earth, I mean.” He feels Harry’s body tense beneath him, but Harry doesn’t protest, he just squeezes Louis tighter. After a moment, Louis draws in a deep breath and continues. “I behaved so unfairly. I promised you this big, romantic evening and then I ruined it all. You don’t have to be sorry about anything, love. Please stop saying you are, because this was all my fault.”

Harry lifts Louis’ chin so they are face to face and his voice is sweet with a hint of hopefulness as he asks, “Let’s put it behind us, okay, Lou? I forgive you and I’m asking you to forgive me.”

“Of course I forgive you, darling,” Louis answers. “But there’s nothing to forg –”

Harry presses his index finger against Louis’ mouth silencing him and Louis can’t help himself, he tilts his head and presses a kiss against it. Harry’s face immediately relaxes into a tentative smile. He leans forward and rests his forehead against Louis’.

“Better?” he asks, his voice still laced with remorse.

“Better,” Louis agrees, his own voice thick with emotion.

Harry takes both of Louis’ hands in his own then and when he speaks, he sounds nervous.

“Whenever I got angry or upset on Earth, I always needed to be alone to think things through: to process my feelings. But tonight, after you left, I was in agony without you and I realized I’d made a huge mistake sending you away.”

“Harry…” Louis starts, but Harry continues on.

“For the first time in as long as I can remember, I didn’t want to be alone after an argument. After you left, I ran after you, but you had already gone and I thought that maybe that was for the best, maybe I should do what I always did on Earth and try to work through my feelings on my own.”

“You came after me?” Louis asks, completely surprised.

“I did. But just as I got to the hall, I heard the lift doors close and I don’t know… I was just really hurt and angry and I thought that maybe that was some kind of sign and I should just take some time to process everything by myself, like I had always done when I was alive.” Harry leans in then and presses a soft kiss to Louis’ lips and then nuzzles his cheek. “I went back into my suite and I couldn’t even think straight. I sat there for hours and I was so miserable. My mind kept returning to the way you looked when I asked you to leave and it broke my heart.”

Louis’ eyes go wide in surprise. “But I hurt _you_ , Harry,” he says, and then he pulls Harry closer, tighter.

“I hurt you too, Louis. Sending you away was so wrong. You apologized so many times and I just wouldn’t listen. Then, after you left, all I wanted was you. I didn’t want to be alone; I needed to be with you. I love you, Louis.”

“Oh Haz, I love you so much,” Louis cries and his body is flooded with relief because Harry still wants him, Harry still _needs_ him, and after everything Louis has said and done; Harry still _loves_ him. Louis doesn’t know how he got so lucky, but he’s immeasurably thankful that Harry is standing before him.

Harry cradles Louis’ face in his hands, his thumbs carefully tracing Louis’ sharp cheekbones. “Louis I know you don’t want to – I mean… We don’t have to do anything, I promise,” Harry says, stumbling over his words, his deep voice, shaky. “I just… I don’t want to be apart from you any longer.” He swallows thickly and looks Louis in the eyes. “Can I please stay with you tonight?”

Louis thinks that he must be dreaming because after the way they left things, he was certain he wouldn’t get to spend another night wrapped in Harry’s arms again. He’s just so happy that Harry still wants him because Louis doesn’t think he deserves Harry at all. He nods his head and finally manages to speak.

“I want you to stay, Harry. I thought I’d go mad here without you.”

He steps back and pulls Harry through the open doorway, quietly shutting the door behind them. The two walk down the little hallway into the main room and Harry stands beside the bed and kicks off his shoes then takes off his belt as Louis crawls beneath the covers. The bedside lamp throws warm light over Harry’s body and he’s so gorgeous that Louis has to turn his head away; he can’t bear to look at Harry as he strips off his tupa, standing before him wearing only his thin, tight pants, because Louis wants him so much.

“Lou,” Harry says, his voice resonating in the quiet of the room. Louis forces himself to meet Harry’s gaze, but he can’t help himself and his eyes quickly rake over Harry’s body. Harry’s skin still emits an iridescent glow from the shimmering body lotion he applied for Louis and Louis can already feel the burning spark of desire igniting in his belly. He lets out a heavy sigh, his heart filled with regret.

“Louis, are you sure this is okay?” Harry asks and Louis knows that he’s once again managed to hurt Harry’s feelings. He knows that he made Harry self-conscious by turning away from him and Harry’s voice is sad when he adds, “I can leave if you like.”

“No, darling, please don’t go!” Louis answers, his voice panicked as he holds out his arms to Harry. “I swear I want you to stay.” He lets out a rueful laugh. “You’re just so beautiful that I can barely look at you, is all. Please come to bed. I promise, I want you here with me, Harry.”

Harry stands still for a minute, considering, and then he leans over and switches off the lamp, Louis averting his eyes by glancing at the bedside clock. It’s well past two in the morning. Harry slides under the covers and pulls Louis into his warm body, wrapping him in his arms and tangling their legs together. Louis rests his head on Harry’s chest and he thinks to himself that aside from when Louis was dressed in his footie kit, this is the first time they’ve been to bed together and weren’t totally nude. He supposes the fact that they’re both wearing pants is a good thing; he wants Harry so much and if he had Harry’s naked body beneath him he’s not sure he would be able to control his own desires. Louis’ mind flashes on Donald and he knows he can’t risk hurting Harry the way that Donald is suffering now.

“Harry,” Louis says, and he shifts his body enough so that he’s resting his head on the same pillow as Harry, the two now facing each other, but still intertwined.

“Yeah, Lou,” Harry answers, but before Louis has a chance to say another word, Harry leans in and presses his lips against Louis’. The kiss is soft and tender and it fills Louis’ entire body with warmth and gratitude because Harry has forgiven him.

Louis lifts his hand and carefully tucks a loose strand of hair behind Harry’s ear and then he speaks.

“Harry… I-I’m so sorry that I didn’t ask you this earlier, love. I was so wrong and so selfish, but I promise you, I really want to know…” Louis draws in a deep breath; momentarily awash in shame for the way he neglected Harry’s feelings all day. “What happened during your Review today? Will you please tell me, darling?”

Even in the darkness of the room, Louis can see the slight flush color Harry’s cheeks.

“I _know_ that you care about my Review, Louis. I think I overreacted earlier – “

“No, you didn’t Harry! I was an absolute selfish tit for not asking you how your sessions went and I’m so ashamed of myself. I guess I just took it for granted that your Review wasn’t difficult and I was terribly wrong to make such an assumption. I’m so sorry for how I acted. I just wish I could erase the entire day and start over.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing, Louis. I know you’re sorry and I’m sorry too, okay?”

“Okay, love,” Louis answers, and because he can, he leans in and slots his lips against Harry’s, giving him a series of soft, quick kisses. “So… What happened, Harry?” he asks when they pull apart.

“Well… Um… I can’t deny that up until this afternoon, my sessions were going well. Maybe they were going _too_ well, because I was completely caught off guard when things got tough.” Harry holds up his hand and ticks off his fingers as he speaks, as if completing a mental checklist. “So my Review up until this afternoon had been… Um… I had the tree climbing incident, and the school fire, and then this morning, Sam showed the swim rescue, so I was feeling pretty good about things.”

“Swim rescue?” Louis asks and for the first time in hours, he finds himself smiling genuinely, because how in the vastness of the universe did Louis end up meeting and falling in love with someone so wonderful as Harry? He realizes that he has to see Harry’s face, because he knows this ‘swim rescue’ involved something heroic and he also knows Harry’s going to be shy and humble when discussing it and Louis finds it utterly adorable when Harry is embarrassed by his many accomplishments and good deeds.

Louis quickly sits up in bed, reaching over Harry to turn the bedside lamp onto the lowest setting. Harry squints his eyes dramatically as if they had been in total darkness for hours and Louis giggles and leans over and kisses Harry’s cheek, right where his dimple is hidden away. Harry immediately breaks out into a grin of his own when he looks at Louis and Louis knows it’s because Harry is relieved to see him looking so happy. Louis taps his index finger on Harry’s sternum. “What kind of heroic deed was this swim rescue, Harold? Was there shark wrestling involved? Did you take on a giant squid? You must share all the details because I know it must have been something amazing,” Louis teases.

Harry ducks his head. “Louis,” he whines, biting the corner of his bottom lip before again meeting Louis’ eyes and laughing, “There weren’t any sharks or giant squids… It really wasn’t a big deal!”

Louis sits up on one elbow, leaning over Harry and gliding his fingertip down Harry’s chest, his smile relaxing, the moment suddenly turning serious. “You’re so beautiful and you’re so humble, love,” he says, his voice reverent. “Everything you do is amazing. I… I’m just so happy you’re here with me.”

Harry slides his own hand over Louis’, lacing their fingers together and then bringing Louis’ hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles.

“I’m so happy to be here with you, too, Louis,” Harry says, his lips turning up into a sweet smile. “We were only apart for a few hours, but I missed you so much.”

“Me too, darling. Me too,” Louis replies. He leans in and kisses Harry, their lips joining together in gentle smacks before Harry takes it further, pulling Louis in and then sliding his tongue into Louis’ mouth, both moaning at the contact. Louis allows himself to touch Harry a little more, and he wraps his hands around the base of Harry’s neck, sliding his fingers through his loose curls and tenderly scratching at Harry’s scalp. Harry practically melts into Louis’ touch, his large hand cradling the dip at the base of Louis’ spine, pulling Louis closer as they kiss slow and deep, their tongues lazily tangling together, filling Louis with sparkling pleasure.

Louis starts to feel the familiar pull of arousal in his groin then, feels his cock start to twitch and fill, and he knows that he has to stop this before they go any further. He reluctantly breaks the kiss, swallowing a gulp of air before awkwardly returning to the subject at hand as if they hadn’t just spent the past several minutes heatedly snogging.

“So... Um… You were telling me about your swim rescue, Harry?”

For a moment, Harry looks completely disoriented and he runs his fingers over his lips as if searching for the kiss and the lips that are no longer planted there. Louis catches the brief flicker of hurt in Harry’s eyes as realization sinks in as to why Louis stopped kissing him, but before Louis has a chance to offer an apology, Harry schools his expression and clears his throat, answering quietly, “Um, yeah. Right.” Louis searches Harry’s face, desperately praying that he hasn’t once again ruined a special moment between them. Harry eyes Louis carefully and then his expression softens and he continues speaking, his voice returning to its normal tone, “So, the swim rescue, right… A few summers ago my family was taking our annual holiday on New Brighton Beach.”

“That’s the same beach where you found the driftwood!” Louis exclaims, relief that Harry isn’t upset that Louis once again pushed him away, evident in his voice. Harry nods, smiling at the memory.

“Exactly. The same driftwood that now has _our_ quote burned into it, Louis,” Harry answers. “We spent a lot of holidays at New Brighton. My family always appreciated a good getaway: the beach every summer, skiing every winter…” Harry’s voice tapers off and he suddenly goes quiet, lost in thought. Louis stares at Harry, confused as to why he has stopped speaking and then it occurs to Louis: the mention of ski holidays with his family must have reminded Harry of the last ski trip he ever took.

A thought flashes in Louis’ mind then: _coma baby_ , and he is instantly filled with remorse.

He was so horrible for judging Harry about his Review. He was so wrong to ever think that Harry had things easy in life, or in death. From the moment he arrived in Judgment City, Louis heard about coma babies and the misery they suffer before crossing over. Both Marcus and Marta shared with Louis how difficult Harry’s transition from life into death had been and Harry told Louis himself the first day they sat on that park bench together and discussed their deaths. Louis’ heart nearly broke in two when Harry spoke about feeling like he was trapped underwater and couldn’t reach his mum and his loved ones who were above the surface, and he had cried in anguish when Harry told him how his mum gave him the permission he needed and he was finally able to let go and give in to death. How could Louis be so cruel to disregard all of that, instead assuming that just because he heard laughter coming through the walls that separate his and Harry’s Review Rooms, that Harry was leading some sort of charmed existence where everything was effortless and comfortable? Louis slaps his hand on his forehead in frustration and lets out a low cry.

“I’m such a fucking arsehole,” he mutters, and Harry immediately sits up, his mouth falling open in surprise.

“Lou! What are you talking about?” Harry asks and Louis shakes his head slowly in response, quietly answering, “I’m just so terribly sorry for how I treated you, Harry. I’m so sorry for the awful things I said about your Review.”

Harry lets out a heavy sigh, fluffing up a couple pillows and then leaning back against them. He pulls Louis into his arms and kisses Louis’ temple, drawing Louis into his body so that he’s holding him close.

“I promise you, it’s okay, Louis. I know how sorry you are about everything that happened tonight. I’ve told you I’ve forgiven you, but now you have to forgive yourself. I know you love me, Louis.”

“Haz –” Louis starts, but Harry cuts him off, his tone playful to lighten the mood.

“Honestly, Louis. Are you going to let me finish this bloody story or not? I haven’t even gotten to the part where I rescued the citizens of Holmes Chapel from a den of blood-sucking vampires and you’re ruining my momentum.”

Louis barks a loud, surprised laugh. He looks up at Harry and Harry raises his eyebrows and he knows that Harry’s right. He needs to forgive himself and let it go. He can’t undo what happened earlier in the evening, but he can be present in the moment with Harry now. He can enjoy their time together and he can show him how much he loves him by doing what Harry asks and ease up on himself.

“All right, Hazza, go on then,” he answers, the weight lifted from his shoulders and no longer heavy in his voice. He rolls his eyes dramatically, “Vampires… I swear.” Harry holds up his hands like claws and bares his teeth and Louis can’t contain his laughter. “Come on then,” he chuckles and nudges his elbow into Harry’s ribs. “Let’s hear all about your heroics. Haven’t got all night you know.” Harry nods in approval.

“Okay, so where was I?” Harry asks, but it’s not really a question.

“New Brighton Beach,” Louis answers. “Where you found our driftwood.” Harry grazes his fingertips over Louis’ back and Louis feels his touch everywhere.

“Yes, where I found our driftwood, Lou.” Louis plants a kiss on Harry’s shoulder as Harry continues speaking. “So, every year my family rented a house on the beach and more often than not, others would join us. That year, Niall and his girlfriend came along, which was great fun, and my mum’s best friend from primary and her family rented the cottage next door. My father even came in for a few nights and stayed with us and it was really nice because he and my stepdad Robin got on quite well and it was just a really good time for all of us.”

“That must have been amazing, Harry,” Louis replies.

Louis’ own family lived modestly. They were comfortable, but there were several mouths to feed and the family budget was too strict to allow for extended holidays very far beyond South Yorkshire. Sure, there were plenty of camping trips and overnight visits to his grandparents and that sort of thing, but there was only one time during Louis’ youth where his mum and stepdad scraped up enough money for the family to spend an actual holiday week at the shore, and money was so tight during that trip that they subsisted primarily on cheese and toast, simple sandwiches, and cereal for their entire stay. It was the best holiday Louis ever had.

When Louis grew up and became a successful advertising executive he was able to afford trips all over the world. He honeymooned with Eleanor in Bora Bora and the two snorkeled with sharks. He took a lads holiday with Liam and bungee jumped off the Sky Tower in New Zealand. Best of all, the year before Louis died, he was able to treat his mum, stepdad Dan, and all six of his siblings to a week’s stay at the Royal Hawaiian resort on Waikiki Beach in Hawaii.

Still, none of those trips compared to that humble holiday spent with his family in a dilapidated beach cottage on the Mappleton Beach shore when he was a child of thirteen. Who knows, maybe part of the fun of that trip was knowing how much they’d all sacrificed to make the holiday possible. But Louis suspects that it was because his family spent that entire trip together, building castles in the sand, jumping in the surf, and collecting sea shells at the end of each day. The trip to Hawaii was wonderful and Louis was happy that he was able to provide such an excursion for his family, but everyone had their own agenda and the lot of them really only came together for nighttime meals and a family outing to Pearl Harbor. It just wasn’t the same as that one special holiday of Louis’ youth.

“I had a really nice holiday on the shore with my family once, Haz,” Louis says, his voice wistful.

“Yeah, Lou?” Harry asks.

“Yeah. I have a lot of fond memories of that week. It was a wonderful time with my family.” He smiles at Harry then. “But enough about me. I want to hear about that shark… or squid. Which was it again, love?”

Harry grins. “No shark. No squid. Just a ten year old boy caught in an undertow.”

“Holy shit, Haz,” Louis says, his eyes wide. “Were you swimming nearby or did you spot him from the shore?”

“I was on the shore...” Harry blows a puff of air, his voice annoyed as he adds, “arguing with Mika.”

“Mika?” Louis asks, and then it hits him: this is the first time Harry has mentioned the name of his partner.

“Mika was my partner, Lou.”

“Yeah, I figured. We just never talked about…” Louis doesn’t finish his thought because he realizes that in addition to Harry never mentioning Mika’s name before, there is something else Harry has never mentioned in regards to his partner. Harry has never mentioned if his partner was a m –

“Is there anything you want to ask me, Lou?” Harry wonders, interrupting Louis’ train of thought. “I know we haven’t talked about my relationship with Mika too much… It’s not really my favorite subject.”

Louis realizes in that moment he doesn’t need to know anything about Mika other than what he already knows: that this Mika person was too blind to appreciate the beautiful man that is currently holding Louis in his arms. Louis doesn’t care to know anything about Mika beyond what Harry wants to share, because Harry’s heart belongs to Louis and that’s all that matters.

“No, love,” Louis answers. “If someday you want to tell me more about your relationship with Mika, I’ll gladly listen. But for now, just share with me the bits you’re comfortable talking about.”

Harry’s mouth splits into a grin so wide it consumes his entire face, and Louis is completely taken aback by Harry’s reaction. He doesn’t think what he said was that big of a deal, but Harry is looking at Louis with so much fondness and love it’s like Louis just told him all the secrets of the universe. Louis arches an eyebrow and shakes his head, confused. “What?” he asks, and Harry actually giggles.

“Louuiiss,” Harry sings, dragging out Louis’ name like it’s the first verse of his favorite love song. “You said ‘someday’.”

“Yeah. So?”

“Someday, Louis… Implying ‘someday’ in the future: a future beyond tomorrow,” he emphasizes. “It’s almost like you know... It’s almost like you believe.” Harry is still grinning madly and he looks so beautiful and happy that Louis has to kiss him, has to taste Harry’s joy on his own lips.

“It’s almost like I know what, Harry? Believe what, darling?” Louis asks, but he’s quite certain he knows the answer and he’s not going to fight it. He’s going to let Harry enjoy this moment and he’ll be damned if he’s not going to enjoy it too.

“That we’re moving forward together, Louis,” Harry answers happily. He draws in a short breath as soon as the words leave his mouth and he looks at Louis cautiously, as if he suddenly realizes he may have said the wrong thing. Louis feels his heart clench in his chest, but he pushes aside the worry so that all he feels is the love. He steels himself, looks Harry in the eyes and he can’t help his own smile when he whispers back, “We’re moving forward together, Harry.”

Harry chokes a watery laugh and rolls Louis onto his back, cradling his cheeks in his large hands and peppering his face with so many kisses and “I love you’s” that Louis feels dizzy.

“Harry!” Louis laughs, but Harry just keeps kissing him: planting his wet mouth and sweet words on Louis’ skin again and again and again.

It feels like bliss and it’s everything Louis has ever wanted or needed, so he allows it to continue for just a bit longer.

Finally, Louis grasps Harry’s shoulders, pushing him off dramatically in false protest and landing on top of him, Harry now on his back and Louis splayed across his chest, his laughter dying down as he brushes loose curls off Harry’s forehead. “You’re never going to finish this story, are you?”

“Not if you keep saying such ridiculously sexy things,” Harry teases. “Say it again for me, Lou.”

“We’re moving forward together,” Louis repeats, and it’s easier this time and it feels good to say it and to believe it, even though Louis is not sure how long this feeling will last.

Harry places two fingers on Louis’ cheek, gently dragging them downwards and then pulling Louis in for a wet, languid kiss. When they finally break apart, Louis is breathless and yearning for more, but he controls himself and Harry doesn’t press.

“I love you, Louis,” Harry says, his slow, deep drawl resonating throughout Louis’ body.

“I love you too, Harry,” Louis answers. The two stare at each other for a long beat and finally Louis finds it in him to continue. “Um… You were saying that you were arguing with your – you were arguing with Mika?”

Harry pulls Louis down for one more kiss before answering.

“Yeah. We’d been together over two years at that point, but things were already starting to sour. Mika had never been on one of my family holidays and I kind of liked it that way; I liked having a break from the stress of our relationship and honestly, my family time was sacred and I didn’t want to spoil it with petty arguments and ridiculous jealousy.” Harry lets out a rueful little laugh. “That should have been a huge red flag right there: that I didn’t want to bring the person I loved with me on holiday or have them spend time with my family.”

“Oh Haz,” Louis says. “I’m so sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” Harry answers sincerely. He smiles then, adding, “God, I can’t even imagine how much fun I would have had bringing you though, Louis. My family would have been absolutely crazy over you. You would have gotten on so well with my mum and my sister; I just know it… I wish you could have met them.”

Louis’ heart clenches again, but this time, instead of worry, all he feels is overwhelming love.

“I wish that too, Haz. So much.”

Harry’s mouth curls up in a soft, sad smile, and then he continues speaking.

“So, Gemma was bringing her boyfriend on the trip, and my mum thought it would be nice if Mika came along too, since Mika really hadn’t spent that much time with my family even though we’d already moved in together. Honestly, I think Mika had just as much reluctance about joining us as I did. You know, it’s not a great sign when you need to take regular breaks from your partner, Louis,” Harry says sadly.

“No. I suppose it’s not,” Louis agrees.

“Anyway, Mika and I were sitting on a blanket, bickering because I’d bought the wrong type of sunscreen or some other such nonsense when I happened to look out toward the sea. The tide was high and the waves were huge, especially for New Brighton, but I could swear, for the briefest instant, I saw a flash of hands break above the water’s surface and then disappear.”

“Oh my god,” Louis mutters and he slides his hand over Harry’s chest, clutching his ribs. “What did you do, Haz?”

“I immediately jumped up and in my haste, I knocked over Mika’s water bottle, and that didn’t go over well, but I didn’t even register Mika yelling at me; I just started marching toward the surf.”

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, I had just reached the shore and this lifeguard ran up to me. The poor kid couldn’t have been more than sixteen, but he tried to stop me. He told me that the Maritime Agency had issued an emergency alert for the area because there was an extreme undercurrent and all swimmers were being ordered out of the water. But then I saw him, Louis.”

“The little boy?” Louis asks.

“Yeah, his head bobbed above the surface and his arms flailed about, but only for a moment and then he disappeared again. He must have been thirty meters or so from the shore, but I knew I wasn’t imagining it. I knew I saw him and I started to run toward the water but the lifeguard caught me. He told me that I couldn’t go in and I screamed that there was someone out there who needed help and I shook him off.”

“Did the lifeguard go in with you, Harry?”

“No, he hadn’t seen the boy in the water and honestly, he really wasn’t cut out for that job. He chased after me, but he didn’t follow me for more than a few meters. I could hear him radioing for help, but I knew that by the time rescuers and a boat arrived, whoever was out there in the water would surely be lost… So I dove in.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers. He pushes his body up, his fingers spread on Harry’s chest. “My brave, brave boy.”

“Lou,” Harry answers, his rich voice echoing in the quiet of the night. “I swear it wasn’t a big deal. Anyone would have done what I did.”

“No, Harry, they wouldn’t. Even the lifeguard stayed on the shore. You’re so brave and wonderful, darling.” Harry blushes, but he keeps talking.

“I started swimming, but the surf was really rough. I was a strong swimmer, Louis. I took lessons from the time I was a very young child.” His voice is almost embarrassed when he says, “We um… We had a swimming pool in our backyard and my mum insisted that Gems and I were skilled swimmers before she ever let us swim without her or my stepdad present. I swear; I was in sixth form and nearly seventeen before I was allowed to use the pool on my own. I continued with the swim lessons and became certified in CPR, just so I could host unsupervised pool parties with my mates over weekends and summer hols.” Harry chuckles softly, his voice fond as he says, “My mum was quite overprotective, Louis. But she just loved Gemma and me so much.”

“Your mum sounds wonderful,” Louis comments.

“She was,” Harry answers, “and it’s solely because of her that I was a strong enough swimmer to make it to that boy. I was barely ten meters from the shore before I was positively knackered, but I knew the crawl stroke well, and I just kept going, even though I was fighting a current that was constantly pulling me under.”

“Fucking hell, Harry,” Louis whispers.

“I could hear the lifeguard blowing his whistle and people shouting, and the waves were crashing loudly around me, but I just kept swimming. When I had swum so far that I was sure I was near the boy, I could hardly keep my head above the surface; the undercurrent was so strong, and it kept dragging me under.”

Louis doesn’t say anything; he just listens to Harry, completely engaged in every word falling from his lips.

“I was kicking and splashing as hard as I could, trying to stay afloat, when I saw him again. The boy’s head bobbed above the water for an instant and I saw him open his mouth, trying to take a breath before he was sucked back down below, and so I dove under the water after him.” Louis feels a chill course through his body, his nerves on edge and suddenly it strikes him that he’s nervous over the safety of a man who is already dead. It doesn’t matter though, because Louis loves Harry so much and he wants nothing more than for his story to have a happy ending. He grabs at Harry’s bicep, scooting closer, Harry’s strong arm pulling him in to the warmth of his body.

“I can’t believe you dove underwater when there was an undertow, Haz. You could have drowned. You could have been killed.”

“I had to save him, Lou. I opened my eyes and the saltwater stung, I could barely see because the water around me was churning so fast and it was dark and grey. But then, I saw a flash of white and realized that it was an arm and I grabbed on to it and I pulled with all of my might, kicking and swimming as hard as I could to reach the surface.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis mutters.

“I found him, Lou. I had him in my arms and we broke the surface and I held his head above the water as I took us both back to shore, but he wasn’t moving at all, and I was afraid I was too late.”

“Oh, Harry…”

“At one point, the undertow dragged me and the boy back under, but I kept going and finally, I felt my toes drag on sand and after swimming a few more meters I was able to walk us to the shoreline. I just remember collapsing in the wet sand and people were gathering around us and a man and woman were crying and crowding over me, but the boy wasn’t moving, so I did what I learned in all those endless swim and CPR classes my mother had forced me to take, and I turned the boy onto his back and opened his airway. I couldn’t detect a breath or feel a pulse, so I started breathing for him, alternating with chest compressions.”

Louis sits up on his knees, his heart racing in his chest. Harry is a hero. Harry is _his_ hero and he feels on edge, waiting to hear how this story will end.

“Did you save him, Harry? I just know you must have saved him. You’re so wonderful, I know you breathed life back into that boy.”

A faint, humble smile spreads across Harry’s lips.

“I saved him, Lou. I was administering CPR and suddenly the boy started coughing. He practically vomited into my mouth as I was breathing into his lungs and I had to jump off and turn him on his side. He spit up seawater and started gurgling and coughing and the next thing I knew I heard cheers and applause all around me and the boy was being lifted off the sand in front of me and loaded in to an ambulance that had driven right onto the beach. I just sat there on the sand. A man and a woman started hugging me, but they were talking so fast that I couldn’t even register what they were saying and before I even knew what was happening they let go of me and were climbing into the ambulance with the boy and I realized they were his mum and dad. I couldn’t even speak though, I was just trying to catch my breath, completely shocked by what had just happened.”

“Oh, Harry. You beautiful, brave soul. You saved his life! I just knew it!” Louis throws himself on top of Harry then, and this time it is Louis peppering kisses on Harry’s face. He kisses Harry’s cheeks and his lips and his nose and his forehead repeating, “I’m so proud of you. I love you. You’re the best person I’ve ever known.”

“Louis!” Harry protests. “Stop! I’m nothing special. I did what anyone else would do under the circumstances.”

“No, Harry, you did what a hero would do under the circumstances. You knew the waters were dangerous and you dove right in and rescued that boy. I’m so proud of you darling. You saved that boy’s life. I bet his family is thankful for you every, single day.”

“Well, that’s actually what my afternoon Review session was about,” Harry replies, his chest, neck and face blushed a deep pink at all of Louis’ compliments. “But anyway, my morning session was about rescuing the boy and both Sam and Arnold had nothing but nice things to say about the incident and that’s where things left off before I met you for lunch.”

“You mean, that’s where things left off before you met up with your boyfriend who was an utter twat and didn’t even ask you about your day?” Louis replies, his voice full of shame.

“No!” Harry answers. He pulls Louis’ hands into his own and sits up on his own knees, facing Louis. “I knew you were upset when you walked out of your Review Room after our morning sessions and I wanted nothing more than to hold you and show you I loved you. Standing there with you, quiet and still… Well, it was just the most wonderful thing, Louis. I treasure that moment.”

“Haz,” Louis says, his voice quiet. “I just…”

“Don’t you dare apologize again, Louis!” Harry says, his tone serious. He lies back down on the pillows, pulling Louis down with him. He turns their bodies so that Louis is on his back, Harry hovering over him and stroking the back of his hand over Louis’ cheek. Louis looks up at Harry and takes a deep breath, because Harry is right and he needs to stop apologizing and move on. Still, he is nervous about what he is going to say next, but he wills himself to ask Harry the question.

“Can you tell me what happened during your afternoon session, love? Only if you want to, Harry,” Louis is quick to add. “I don’t want to upset you.” Harry nods his head.

“Of course, Louis. I’ll tell you everything.” He leans in and kisses Louis warm and slow on the lips. “Thank you for asking, sweetheart,” he says, his voice sincere. Louis closes his eyes for a moment and steadies himself.

“Well, after I rescued the boy, things were a bit chaotic,” Harry starts. “There was a huge crowd gathered on the beach and I hadn’t really even noticed them until they took the boy away, I was so focused on what I was doing.” He shrugs his shoulders and huffs a soft laugh. “When I pulled him to shore, there were already rescue personnel there ready to administer CPR, Lou, but I didn’t even see them, it was like I was totally on my own and I had a mission to save him myself. I don’t even think I would have been able to turn him over to them if they had tried to stop me; I was so bloody focused on keeping him alive.”

“I can’t believe I get to know you,” Louis says, his voice full of awe.

Harry shakes his head, as if Louis’ praise is wholly undeserved.

“So, up until the point when the medics took the boy away, I was kind of in a trance, going through the motions, but then once they all left the beach… Well, it was like all of it hit me.”

“Hit you? How do you mean, Harry?” Louis asks.

Harry furrows his brow, trying to find the proper words to convey what he is thinking.

“It was like I suddenly realized what had happened and I was completely emotional. I was so exhausted I could hardly stand upright, but more than that, I was just… Well, I was mentally wrung out, as well.”

“It must have been so much to absorb, Harry. What you’d done, I mean.”

“It was. I had been on this huge adrenaline rush during the rescue and when I was doing CPR, but then they took the boy away and I felt like I had whiplash or something. It was like a rug had been pulled out from under me and I crashed so fast and hard and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I suddenly realized that I had been a part of both life and death, but thankfully, life won out, and yet, all I wanted to do was cry.”

“Oh darling, you were overwhelmed by everything that happened.”

“I was. Everyone was patting me on the back and congratulating me, and all I wanted was my mum. I remember she came running over to me and I just collapsed into her arms and started crying like a bloody idiot.”

Louis’ mind flashes to the moment earlier in the evening when he stepped outside the elevator and saw Margaret standing there. He thinks about how desperate he was to be held by his mum and he knows that Harry must be longing for his own mum in the same way because even though grief is minimal in the Afterlife, it’s during times of stress that one misses their loved ones the most. He wraps his arms beneath Harry’s back, whispering in his ear, “I bet your mum was exactly what you needed, Haz. She helped you, didn’t she?”

“She did. She told me how proud of me she was and she walked me back to the beach house and it was like all of the chaos and excitement just quieted. There was a huge porch overlooking the sea and she sat down with me on one of the chaise lounges and held me Louis. I fell asleep in her arms like I had when I was a little kid. It was so comforting. I don’t know why I was so emotional, but I just needed my mum.”

“I’m so glad she was there for you, love.”

“Well… Um… Mika wasn’t very glad.” Louis’ eyebrows shoot up and he pulls back to look at Harry’s face.

“What do you mean, Haz?” he asks, and he already feels himself getting angry with this miserable Mika person.

“I kind of left the beach without giving Mika a second thought. Which, I suppose can be added to the long list of ‘bad signs’ in terms of our relationship.”

“But you just rescued a boy from drowning, Harry!” Louis exclaims. “You shouldn’t have been giving anyone a second thought.”

“Yeah, well, Mika didn’t see things that way,” Harry sighs. “I slept on that chaise lounge for two hours. My mum told me she managed to dose off a bit here and there, but I think she was just being a good sport; she sat there and held me the entire time, barely moved a muscle so that I could sleep and recover from the rescue. It was so selfless of her, Louis,” Harry marvels.

“I bet she loved every minute of having you cuddled up to her, love. You were her baby.”

“That’s what she said, Lou,” Harry answers, smiling shyly. “When I woke up she was twisted in the most awkward position and I know she must have been so stiff and sore from pillowing my head during my nap, but she told me that no matter what I did or what I achieved in the world, I’d always be her baby, and I know she meant it.” Harry closes his eyes for a long beat and Louis is quiet, allowing Harry to reflect on his mum and that moment they shared together. When Harry opens his eyes to speak, they are wet, but he manages to hold back his tears.

“So, when I woke up it was still pretty early in the day, only about half-two. The house was really quiet and Niall told me later that everyone decided to give me some space and allow me some privacy after the chaos of the rescue.”

“You had good people in your life, Harry,” Louis comments.

“I did,” Harry agrees. “After I woke, I knew I definitely wasn’t up for going back to the beach, so I took a shower and honestly, Louis, I didn’t even think about Mika. I was just really exhausted and kind of spent and it was almost like my mind was blank, so when I got out of the shower and walked back into our room to find Mika sitting on the bed, well… I was actually kind of startled.

“What happened?”

“Well, nothing really, at first. I certainly didn’t get any kind of comfort or congratulations; Mika was actually quite cold to me.”

“Bloody hell, why?” Louis asks, failing to keep the irritation out of his voice. He’s really starting to dislike Mika with a passion.

“I found out later it was because of the way I left the beach with my mum. But Lou, it’s not like Mika came to me or anything after the rescue,” Harry defends. “It was just really strange and tense. We’d been arguing all morning, so I’m sure that had something to do with it, but still, you’d think after I’d rescued a boy from drowning I would have at least gotten a ‘well done’ or even an acknowledgment of my efforts.”

“That jerk,” Louis mutters under his breath. He feels his cheeks blush and cringes. “Shit, Harry, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to put down your partner.”

Harry smiles. “Ex-partner,” he emphasizes. “You’re my partner, Louis, and it’s okay. I know you just love me and don’t like to hear about someone hurting me. But if that last bit made you angry, wait until you hear what happened that night.”

“What happened that night?”

“Well, at first, it was amazing, actually. We had a huge family dinner and everyone was going on about the rescue, and even Mika lightened up and started talking about it, so I just felt really happy and proud. Then, about half nine there was a knock on the door and my mum went to answer it, and it was the boy’s parents, Louis. They’d come over to thank me personally for saving their son.”

Louis eyes go wide. “Shit, Haz. I forgot all about them! Where were they when the boy went in the water?”

“Well, his mum was in their house making lunch and the boy’s father had gone up to help her carry it back to the beach. He told the boy to stay out of the water until he returned.”

“But the boy didn’t listen,” Louis comments.

“No, he didn’t. He’d apparently made a new friend and they were digging in the sand by the shore and the friend dared him to go in the water and the boy did and that was that.”

“Shit. His father must have had a heart attack when he came back and his son was wasn’t where he left him.”

“He told me it was the most terrifying moment he’d ever experienced. He’d only been gone a few minutes and it wasn’t like he’d left a toddler alone on the beach or anything like that. Still, he said leaving his son unsupervised was the biggest mistake he’d ever made in his life. But, Louis,” Harry says, and his eyes go wide, his face splitting into a huge grin. “You’re never going to guess who the boy’s father was!”

“Mick Jagger?” Louis asks, without missing a beat. Harry rolls his eyes.

“No. But that would have been really cool.”

“Well then who?”

Harry bites his bottom lip, his voice full of excitement when he says, “The boy’s father was Dr. Walter Moore! Can you believe it?”

“Harry! That’s amaz – wait. Who?” Louis asks, because honestly, he’s never heard of Dr. Walter Moore and Harry’s enthusiasm almost made Louis think he actually had. Harry huffs a soft laugh and then kisses Louis on the cheek.

“I didn’t suspect you would know him, Lou, but I thought I would take a chance,” Harry answers, then gives Louis a playful wink. “Dr. Walter Moore is the preeminent scholar on William Shakespeare. He teaches at Oxford, but he lectures all over the world and has published a ton of articles and books on The Bard.”

“Harry! That really _is_ amazing! Your doctoral work! You must have been working on your dissertation at the time. Did you get to talk to him about it?”

Harry’s mouth falls open and he shakes his head slowly in disbelief.

“Jesus, Louis. Thank you so much for understanding how important that was to me. I can’t believe you immediately put that together.”

“Why? You told me two days ago you studied Shakespeare. Of course I would know that meeting another Shakespeare scholar would be a big deal for you, and the fact that he was some kind of bigwig in the field must have been huge.”

“Mika didn’t know that,” Harry answers, his voice quiet. “Well, I should say that Mika _did_ know that, but chose to completely disregard that fact.”

“What do you mean?” Louis asks, already dreading the answer because he knows it’s only going to make him despise this terrible Mika person more.

“Dr. Moore and his wife were nearing the end of their holiday, but they wanted to show their appreciation to me. Their son, his name was ‘Caleb’, by the way, was home from hospital. The doctors treated him with pure oxygen and ran a bunch of tests on him, but after a few hours he had fully recovered and was fine. They kept him for observation for the majority of the day, but he was able to go home that night.”

“Harry, that’s so wonderful. He came home from hospital because of _you_ , love. You saved his life.”

“Well, Dr. Moore and his wife certainly seemed to think so. They invited my entire family and our guests to their country club for a celebratory dinner the following evening and I immediately accepted. I didn’t clear it with anyone because I was just so excited, Louis. I told Dr. Moore about my work and that I was using two of his books as sources for my dissertation and he said he was very flattered and always enjoyed meeting young scholars in the field. He told me that he was looking forward to speaking with me and that since the dinner party was in my honor, we could hold the party captive and make them listen to boring stories about Shakespeare all night long. He was really very kind, Louis, and I just couldn’t believe I was going to have the opportunity to speak with him one on one.”

“Harry,” Louis says, and he feels anxious and agitated, because he already knows the answer to the question he’s about to ask. “Please tell me you went to that dinner?”

Harry lets out a heavy sigh and then shakes his head sadly.

“No, Louis. I didn’t.”

“What? Why not? You didn’t go because of Mika, did you, Harry?”

“Mika didn’t want to go,” Harry answers. “After Dr. Moore and his wife left, Mika and I got into a huge argument about me accepting that invitation without clearing it with everyone first, but what it really came down to was that I hadn’t cleared it with Mika. Everyone else in the house was excited to go.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Louis asks, his voice a combination of anger and disbelief.

“Well, Mika had to leave our holiday early because of a work obligation and so we had reservations at this nice restaurant, just the two of us, for the following evening, and obviously if we went to dinner with Dr. Moore, our plans would have to be cancelled.” Harry clears his throat and he sounds embarrassed when he adds, “Um. We had a romantic evening planned. We were… I guess we were trying to get back to a good place, you know?”

“Harry,” Louis starts, shaking his head in barely contained anger. “Couldn’t anyone in your family talk sense into Mika? Everyone had to know what a big deal an invitation from Dr. Moore was to you.”

“Well, Mika had only made one snide comment about cancelling our plans in front of the group and it was so awkward and shocking that I just kind of laughed and pretended Mika was joking because I didn’t want to have a row in front of everyone.”

“Jesus, Harry. I’m so sorry.”

“The real fight happened when we got back to our room. I’m sure half the people staying in our beach house heard us fighting, although everyone was too polite and kind to say anything.” Harry shakes his head and draws in a breath. “That was the clip they showed during my Review, Louis. The clip was of Mika and me arguing about me cancelling our dinner plans so we could go out with Dr. Moore and his family.”

“Oh, Harry,” Louis starts, but Harry keeps talking.

“The fight was really ugly, Louis. I had forgotten how hurtful it was until I was sitting in that Screening Chair and it all came rushing back and it was like I was living the moment all over again. Mika said some really dreadful things to me and questioned my integrity and my commitment to our relationship. I tried to be reasonable, I tried to make Mika understand that this wasn’t just any dinner with a random stranger, that I was invited out by a scholar that I had tremendous respect for and who could also be of help down the line in regards to my career. But Mika just kept going on and on about how selfish and spoiled I was and while I was sitting in my Screening Chair watching myself, I realized that in that moment onscreen, I believed every word that Mika was telling me.”

Harry lets out a heavy sigh, his voice defeated when he states, “Finally, I just gave in. I agreed with everything Mika said about me and I apologized and said I’d call Dr. Moore and cancel the dinner. I promised I would take Mika out like we’d originally planned and that’s exactly what I did. I just didn’t have it in me to argue about it anymore.”

“I can’t believe you missed the opportunity to talk to someone whose work you so admired, Harry. I just… I can’t get over how selfish Mika was.” Louis puts up his hands. “Shit, I’m sorry. I keep putting Mika down and that’s not fair. I’m sorry, Haz.”

“It’s okay, Louis.” Harry answers. The two are now snuggled back against the pillows, Harry flat on his back and Louis tucked beneath his arm resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. “I don’t know why I tolerated all that I did with Mika. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why I accepted that sort of behavior.” He lets out a soft wry laugh. “Maybe I’ll figure it out when I start using more of my brain, but I think it boils down to the fact that Mika was my first real love and I guess… well, maybe I didn’t know any better. I-I don’t know why I worked so hard to save a relationship that was doomed from the start. We should never have lasted as long as we did.”

“So, is that what Arnold talked about then, Harry? Your relationship with Mika?”

“Yeah, but it was mostly about how my relationship was related to fear. Arnold said that for the four years Mika and I were together, I lived a life completely dominated by fear. He said that my fear of upsetting Mika held me back in doing the things I wanted for myself, like that dinner with Dr. Moore, and that my own insecurities brought on by that fear kept me with someone who wasn’t good for me and who didn’t treat me well. I felt so humiliated sitting there watching the way Mika spoke to me when we were arguing, like I was absolutely nothing and my feelings didn’t matter. I sat in that Screening Chair and my emotions were so intense and everything felt so real; I could even smell the salt air, Louis. It was like I was actually back in the moment, if that makes any sense?”

Louis nods his head because what Harry is saying makes perfect sense. Louis experienced the very same type of emotional and physical reactions during his own Review.

“The Reviews can be so visceral, love,” Louis answers.

“Yes!” Harry agrees, adding softly, “It was all so real. I felt small and weak and pathetic and I was so full of shame, Louis. Mika had this way of throwing tantrums like spoiled children do to get their own way, and it always worked. I realized later that those sorts of tantrums were just bullying tactics, but I always fell for them. I’d rather give in to Mika that engage in a huge fight, and when Arnold argued that I was too afraid to stand up for myself against my partner, I couldn’t disagree, Lou. Arnold was right. I was such a coward, and everyone in my Review Room knew it.”

“Harry, no! You weren’t a coward at all. You were brave and good and please don’t say such things.” Louis’ eyes search Harry’s face and Harry looks sad and embarrassed and Louis just wants to take that shame away, because Harry should never feel this way.

Harry’s eyes are wet and his voice is earnest when he replies, “I felt so exposed, Louis. I felt like my biggest failings were on display for everyone to see. It was just so awful.”

“I know, love,” Louis replies, and then he wraps his arms around Harry, hugging his chest. “I know exactly how you felt and I’m just so sorry you went through all of that. You deserve so much better, Harry.” He looks at Harry and shakes his head. “God, I hate these fucking Reviews!” Louis exclaims and to his relief, Harry actually chokes a wet laugh.

“Talking to you about it helps, Louis,” Harry says, and then he wipes his eyes and sniffles. Louis feels his stomach twist because Harry should have been able to talk to him about his Review earlier in the day and Louis denied him that relief. He leans over and kisses Harry and then carefully strokes his thumbs beneath Harry’s eyes, wiping away his tears.

“I’m so sorry, love,” Louis whispers and Harry nods and looks at Louis like he knows what Louis is thinking.

“It’s okay, Lou,” he answers, and then continues about his session. “When it was Sam’s turn to speak, she basically refuted every one of Arnold’s arguments. She said that I went after all sorts of things I wanted in life and in that moment, avoiding a huge blowout that might cause a rift between Mika and my family and ruin our holiday was more important to me than having dinner with Dr. Moore. She said that I loved Mika and love is the greatest gift in the universe and that even though Mika wasn’t right for me, I had to let that love run its course. By the time she finished speaking, I felt a bit better about things, but still, it was a terrible experience and I was just so glad when the session was finally over.”

 _And then I acted like an arsehole to you_ , Louis thinks, but he doesn’t say it aloud. He’s already apologized and they’ve moved on and Louis needs to let it go, even though the thinks he’ll be ashamed of how he acted forever. Instead, what he says is, “How do you feel now, Harry?” Harry squeezes Louis’ hips.

“I feel good, yeah? It’s a relief to get it off my chest and it’s done and tomorrow is a new day and it’s going to be okay. Besides, I’m here with you, Louis and that makes everything better.” Louis feels a flush of warmth in his chest and he just wants to kiss Harry senseless, but he knows that he needs to stay in control. Plus, there is something else he really wants to know right now.

Harry, can I ask you something, love?”

“Sure, Lou. You can ask me anything.”

“Did you ever get to speak with Dr. Moore? About your studies, I mean.”

Harry’s entire face lights up and by the dimple that pops on his cheek, Louis knows that his smile is genuine.

“I love you for caring about that, Louis,” Harry marvels. “That’s… That’s amazing. Means so much to me, sweetheart.” He traces his fingertips down Louis’ side, resting his hand on the base of Louis’ hip. “I called him to cancel our dinner and I apologized profusely and told him that I had already had plans with Mika and he told me he understood. He gave me his personal email and I was able to send him some questions and cite him directly in my dissertation, so that was really kind of him. It wasn’t the same as talking to him one on one, but I did get to pick his brain a bit and so I felt lucky.”

“I’m so glad, Harry. You deserved that chance to speak with him, especially after all that you did for his family. I wish I could have read your dissertation,” he adds, struck by the way that they are completely separated from so many of the physical remnants of life on Earth.

“You might have found it boring, I think. But I promise you, Louis, I’ve got an arsenal of love poems at my disposal and I plan on reciting every single one to you.” Louis feels his cheeks flush and his heart swell in his chest.

“I’ll look forward to that, then,” he answers. Harry just smiles in response and the two settle into a comfortable silence before Louis again speaks. “It’s well past three, Harry. I know you must be exhausted. We should probably get some sleep. He reaches up to turn off the bedside lamp, but Harry intercepts him.

“Hey! Not so fast! You didn’t tell me about your Review, Louis. I really want to know what happened. You were so upset today,” he says, his voice quiet and full of concern.

 _Shit_.

Louis really isn’t sure he wants to think about his Review, much less talk about it, but he owes this to Harry. He acted like an utter prat all day and Harry deserves to know why. Besides, he knows deep down in his heart that telling Harry what happened will take some of the burden off and help him to feel better, it’s just getting up the nerve to actually speak about what happened that’s the challenge.

“Okay, Harry,” Louis answers.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want me to know, Louis,” Harry interjects. “I just want you to feel comfortable.” Louis feels like his heart might burst he loves Harry so much.

“I want to tell you everything, love. It’s just kind of embarrassing, is all.”

“You never have to feel embarrassed with me, Louis. I love you,” Harry whispers. Louis nods his head and takes a deep breath before beginning.

He starts by telling Harry all about his morning Review session and about his internship with Bradley, Bakker and Whitfield and as he speaks he feels like a weight is being lifted slowly off his shoulders because he’s sharing his most difficult experiences with the man he loves and that man is listening wholly without judgment, offering nothing but support in return. It’s such a relief that Louis is actually angry with himself for not telling Harry what happened sooner because doing so may have made his day a whole lot better.

When Louis gets to the part about the Toyota campaign, Harry beams with pride at how smart Louis’ concept was for the advert, and how amazing he must have been at his job. Then Louis tells him about his boss’s son stealing credit for Louis’ work and Harry furrows his brows in anger at the injustice of it all, until Louis confesses that he just stood there and allowed it to happen and then Harry pulls him in close, pressing kisses to his forehead and whispering that it’s okay. By the time he finishes his story, Harry is again telling Louis how proud he is of him, because despite what Ileana said about Louis being afraid to stand up for himself, Harry reiterates Marcus’ argument that what Louis did was honorable because telling his boss the truth about his son could have caused him immeasurable hurt.

“So that was my morning session,” Louis says, when he finishes. “It was rough, but it got a lot worse when my afternoon session rolled around.”

“I want to hear all about it,” Harry replies, his voice sincere. Louis stares at Harry for several long beats, nervous about what he’s going to say. How is he going to tell the man he desperately loves that he’s a cheater and a coward? How is he even going to begin to explain his affair with the artist? But then he looks between their two bodies and he spies the butterfly inked across Harry’s chest and he presses his hand to it and speaks.

“We never discussed this set of tattoos, Harry,” he says, his voice small. Harry traces his fingers along the words inscribed along Louis’ collarbones.

“No, we haven’t,” he answers.

Louis takes a deep breath and brushes his hand over Harry’s fingertip, pointing to his own tattoo. “This sentiment, ‘It is what it is,’ was originally intended to be a garland of roses.” Harry doesn’t speak; he simply leans in and presses a kiss to the center of Louis’ tattoo and waits for him to continue.

“I’m not proud of what I did, or who I was back then, Harry. In fact, I’m bloody ashamed, but the rose tattoo was designed for me by the first man I ever loved. He was an artist and I met him while I was planning my wedding to Eleanor. He worked part time as a bartender at the venue where our reception was to be held and on the day I met him, he was painting a mural on a wall in one of the reception halls our wedding planner was showing us. The mural was so beautiful that Eleanor insisted we go over and meet him and she decided right then and there that our reception would be held in the room that was being transformed with his artwork.” Louis lowers his eyes, embarrassed, but continues speaking. “So we walked over to where he was painting to meet him, and I just knew I was in trouble. I’d dated Eleanor practically my entire life, since I was twelve-years-old, and I always knew I would marry her someday. She was the only person I’d ever been with. She was sweet and she loved me, and most of all, she was _safe._ ”

“Safe?” Harry asks.

Louis swallows and nods his head. “Yes, she was safe. We’d been together so long and it was comfortable and easy with her. I didn’t have to worry about how I acted around her or what I said, because she accepted me for who I was. I took a lot of shit growing up for being flamboyant and for my big arse, and that sort of thing, but none of that ever bothered Eleanor, she just took it all in stride and loved me just the same. Besides, I was the only person she’d ever been with, so I didn’t feel a lot of pressure in terms of… intimacy and sex.”

Harry runs his hand over Louis’ bum. “I can’t believe anyone would give you a hard time about your perfect arse, Louis,” he says with a smirk, Louis elbowing him playfully in the ribs it response. “It sounds like Eleanor was a good person.”

“She was,” Louis agrees. “I was just really confused for so very long. I knew I was attracted to men, but I really _did_ love Eleanor, not in the way she deserved, but I loved her just the same. I guess I just figured that I could somehow will the thoughts I had about men to go away, that I could marry Eleanor and we’d have children and a life together and we could be happy, despite the fact that I really wasn’t sexually attracted to her.” He shrugs his shoulders and lets out a heavy breath. Harry slides his hand beneath Louis’ arm, settling his fingers over his ribs and squeezing gently.

“So Eleanor and I went over to meet the artist,” Louis continues. “He was really attractive and also pretty arrogant. He was completely unimpressed by El, but he openly flirted with me. I’d had that happen before, with men I mean, but I’d always brushed them off straight away. I always made it clear I wasn’t interested, but for some reason with him, I didn’t.”

Louis thinks back on that day. He remembers when he first saw Zee: the way he looked in his tight white t-shirt, his jet black hair styled into a slicked-back quiff. He had on skintight jeans and Chuck Taylor high tops, a cigarette tucked behind his ear, his clothing and body covered in splatters of colorful paint that accentuated the ink that covered his tawny skin. Up until the moment Louis laid eyes on Harry, the artist was the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen and by the way he looked Louis over and brazenly licked his lips when he shook his hand, Louis was certain that the artist found him attractive, as well.

Eleanor praised Zee’s artwork and told him that she hoped the mural would be complete for her and Louis’ wedding and Zee had openly scoffed when she mentioned that she and Louis had been together twelve years. Louis was quick to usher her away after that; he certainly didn’t want Eleanor to catch on to how rude the artist was actually being to her, and he especially didn’t want her to notice the blatant way that he was eyeing Louis.

“So you didn’t brush off his advances, then?” Harry asks, interrupting Louis’ thoughts.

Louis shakes his head. “I didn’t. After our meeting with the wedding planner was over, Eleanor and I went out to the car but I realized I had left my cell inside and when I went back in to get it, he handed it to me. He’d entered his name and number into my contacts list and he dared me to meet him that night at this bar in Soho and… Harry… I went. I’d never been to a gay club before, and I was so curious. We got drunk on beer and whiskey and we danced and it was just really fun.” Louis pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts, because his time with the artist was an emotional rollercoaster and although he’s had to deal with it all day long, it’s still a painful subject. But still, he wants Harry to know everything, so he continues speaking.

“The last male I’d kissed was my friend Brian when I was eleven, and I told you how that turned out,” Louis says sadly. Harry winces and nods his head, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“Well, Zee – that was his name – Zee. He and I kissed that night and it was… well, it was amazing, really. It was like everything I had denied myself my entire life was on this massive platter before me and I was starving and I couldn’t get enough. After that first night, he asked me to meet him out again and I knew it was wrong and so at first I refused, but eventually I relented. I kept meeting him out and by the fourth date I went home with him and I slept with him.” Louis snorts ruefully. “It was my first sexual experience with a man and he was sort of rough with me. I think he’s actually the reason I prefer topping. On occasion I like a little pain with my pleasure, but he tended to err more on the pain side and I sometimes ended up really sore afterwards.”

“Jesus, Louis,” Harry whispers, and anger flashes briefly on his face. He slides his hand over Louis’ side and begins to draw soothing patterns on Louis’ back, his fingertips barely dancing over his skin.

“After that first night, I continued to see him. I knew how wrong it was: I knew that I was betraying Eleanor and that I wasn’t being fair to him either, but I couldn’t help myself. It was like this whole new world opened up for me and I wanted to be a part of it, but I also didn’t want to let go of the world I came from. Zee and I had some really good times; he made me laugh and sometimes he could be gentle and say really sweet things to me.” Louis’ voice goes a bit softer as he thinks back to that time in his life, about how content he felt the first time he allowed himself to be held by another man and touched and kissed by him. It was like a shade was opened in a room that had been dark for years and suddenly the sun was shining in and things were revealed in all the hidden spaces that could never be seen before. It was an amazing time in Louis’ life.

“Eleanor was so caught up in planning the wedding and her career was starting to take off, and she was very busy, so I didn’t think she’d notice that I was having more lad nights with my ‘mates’ and spending less time with her.”

Louis suddenly feels a wave of panic wash over him and his eyes go wide and he shakes his head. “Harry, I know what I did was so wrong. I’m so sorry I cheated on her. You have to know that I tried to make it up to her as best as I could. Please… Please don’t think poorly of me.”

Harry pulls him in close, his voice shocked when he answers. “Louis, I could never! You were young and you were confused and you made some mistakes. We’ve all done things we regret in life. I would never judge you for being human, and I certainly would never think poorly of you.”

Louis feels relief flood his veins. Just a few words from Harry and Louis feels instantly calm. God, he wishes he had talked to him about all of this sooner. He lets out a sigh of relief and continues speaking, grateful that he can confide in Harry like this.

“I fell in love with him, Harry, but I refused to admit it. I kept telling myself that he was just a fling: a ‘last hurrah’ of bachelorhood that I could easily let go of as soon as I was married.” He shakes his shoulders in disbelief. “It’s funny, I think that if I had met him after I’d come out and been more experienced, I might not have even liked him, much less loved him, but he was my first experience with a man and he was all I knew and it was just such a confusing, miserable time in my life, even though parts of it were absolutely amazing.”

“I’m glad you had some good experiences with him, but falling in love isn’t supposed to be miserable, Louis. It’s supposed to be a wonderful experience,” Harry comments, his voice free of judgment. “Of course, I’m one to talk,” he adds sheepishly.

“It has been wonderful with you,” Louis answers. Harry smiles and nuzzles his nose against Louis’ and then presses their lips together in a reassuring kiss. When they pull apart, Louis continues speaking.

“So, not surprisingly, things started to turn very sour with Zee as the wedding date drew closer. He demanded I cancel the ceremony and break up with Eleanor, and he was right: I should have done those things. But not for him, I should have done them for Eleanor and for myself. I could have saved us both a lot of heartache if I had just called the whole thing off and admitted to myself that I was never going to love her, or any woman for that matter, the way I wanted to love a man.”

Harry brushes Louis’ fringe off his forehead and slides his fingers into his hair, gently thumbing his cheek. Louis closes his eyes for a moment because he can’t believe Harry is just letting him tell this terrible story of the cruel way he cheated on a girl who loved him since they were practically children, and he’s not judging Louis for his actions at all. Instead, he’s actually trying to comfort him.

“Anyway, to make a very long story short, a few weeks before the wedding, I decided I wanted to get another tattoo. I had always wanted a collar piece, but Eleanor hated my tattoos and told me if I was going to get another, I should at least choose something pretty that she could tolerate looking at for the rest of her life.”

Harry draws in a shocked breath. “She hated your tattoos? How could she possibly hate them? Your tattoos are beautiful, Louis!” He grabs Louis’ arm then and drags his finger over the dagger and Louis can’t help but smile.

“I think you’re a bit biased, Haz.” Harry grins back at him and holds up his fingers, pinching the air.

“Just a tiny bit,” he answers with a wink.

“Well, I mentioned the tattoo to Zee and he insisted that he draw the design for me. He told me that whenever I saw it I would think of him and that I would know that I was his and that I would never truly belong to Eleanor.”

Harry scowls. “You’re mine, Louis,” he says under his breath.

A smile flickers over Louis’ lips and he nods in agreement. “The drawing he made for the collar piece was absolutely beautiful, though. It was a garland of roses and they were exquisitely detailed. When I showed the drawing to Eleanor, she flipped and said that it was the prettiest tattoo design she’d ever seen and she could stand the sight of more ink on my body if it was of something so lovely.”

Harry once again traces his finger over Louis’ collar tattoo. “But you didn’t use his design,” he says, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

“I didn’t. The thing is, before I even got to the tattoo shop I knew I wasn’t going to use it. I didn’t want something he drew imprinted on my skin forever because I knew how wrong our relationship was. Not because we were the same sex,” Louis is quick to add, “but because it was a relationship based on deception.” He pauses for a minute, embarrassed by what he is about to say next. “He told me that he loved me and I know that he did, but he was starting to get a bit… Well, he would say things that were pretty hurtful. He started calling me his ‘little closeted queer’ and that sort of thing and it didn’t make me feel very good about myself.”

Harry sits up then, his expression a combination of shock and fury playing across his features. “How dare he call you that? What a fucking bastard, Louis!”

Louis pushes Harry back down so that his back is flat on the mattress and Louis rolls on top of him, slotting his thigh between Harry’s. “It’s okay, Haz. I think he was just used to getting his own way on things and it really burned him that I was still so insistent on marrying Eleanor. I was so fucking confused and I’m sure it wasn’t easy for him, being with someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” Harry repeats, affronted. “Don’t say that, Louis! You’re wonderful and he’s an asshole for not realizing how lucky he was to have whatever piece of yourself you gave him.”

“I didn’t give him much, Harry. I could never summon up the courage to tell him I loved him, and he deserved to hear that from me,” Louis admits. He feels embarrassed and ashamed, but he keeps talking, because he needs to tell Harry everything. “I knew I was in love with him, and he told me he loved me all of the time. It was so wrong of me to never tell him back, and then when I didn’t get the tattoo he designed for me, well he was really angry and hurt. We only lasted a few weeks after that.”

“Lou,” Harry says quietly. “I’m so sorry for all that you went through. I can’t even imagine how tormented you were.” He clears his throat, “So you decided not to get the tattoo because of Eleanor then?”

“She was the biggest reason, yeah. It would have been so cruel and disrespectful to her, to have a drawing made by a man I was fucking behind her back permanently inked on my skin. I don’t think I ever could have faced her again had I done that. It was bad enough, all that I put her through.”

“Louis,” Harry whispers, and he places his hand on the center of Louis’ chest. Louis points to his collarbones.

“This design was hanging on the wall of the shop and you already know that it’s only part of the piece, that it belongs with the butterfly.”

“It does,” Harry agrees and he pecks Louis’ lips with a quick kiss.

“I wanted the entire tattoo. I wanted to get the chest piece too. I wanted the butterfly, Harry.” Louis spreads his hands across the butterfly inked onto Harry’s chest, just as he did the first time he saw it when Harry revealed all of his tattoos to him after Louis’ footie match. Just like he’s done so many times since. His voice drops to barely above a whisper. “I thought the butterfly was so beautiful, but I didn’t think I deserved it, Harry. I didn’t think I deserved anything good at all and I realized while I was standing there in that shop that I was secretly shagging a man that I was too afraid to admit I was in love with, and I was going to marry a woman that I wasn't _in_ love with, and I just felt utterly helpless. It was all such a disaster, but I was too locked in to the role I’d been playing for so many years that I didn’t think I could change. So I just got part of the design and had the phrase, ‘It is what it is’, tattooed on my skin because I decided right then and there in that tattoo shop that I had to resign myself to the life I had chosen.”

Harry wraps his free hand over Louis’ and squeezes, his expression sad. “You deserved to have beautiful things, Louis. You deserved all the good things in life. I’m so sorry you didn’t know that.”

“But I have them now, Harry. I have them with you. _For however long I’m here_ , he thinks to himself, but he pushes the thought out of his mind. “Jesus, I told you that whole long-winded story about the tattoo, but I never got to the punch line; I never told you about my afternoon Review session,” Louis says, agitated with himself for rambling.

“That’s okay, Louis. I want to know about your life, even all of the difficult parts, because all of those experiences made you the person you are now, the person I love.”

Harry slides his hand up the back of Louis’ neck then, pulling him down so their mouths meet and their lips connect. It’s so slow and tender: the way Harry traces his fingers down Louis’ back, pulling him in closer; the way Louis glides his tongue into Harry’s mouth; the little sparks of desire Louis feels bubbling all over his body. God, Louis wants Harry so much. He gives in to Harry’s warm kisses, allows himself to melt into his touch. It all feels so good; it all feels so _right_.

Harry is the one to break the kiss. He pulls back slowly and brushes Louis’ fringe off his forehead.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, love,” he says, his eyes glassy and his lips shiny and plump. He’s so fucking beautiful Louis can barely see straight, but he pulls himself together and again speaks.

“I guess I just wanted to give you the back story. I think if I’d jumped in with, ‘Well, during my Review they showed a clip of me having a fight with the man I was shagging behind my fiancés back and in that clip I was too much of a coward to admit I loved him and he finally dumped me and threw me out of his flat on my arse’, you might have thought less of me, Haz.”

“Louis! Is that what happened during your clip? I would never think less of you! The delegate showed a clip of your boyfriend breaking up with you? That’s so cruel!”

“Well, Ileana made her point. She said I had the greatest gift the universe could offer and that I rejected that gift. It was so strange, Harry, because there was no moral judgment about the fact that I cheated on Eleanor; the moral judgment was that I was too much of a coward to tell the man I was cheating on Eleanor with that I loved him.”

“Oh, Louis,” Harry whispers.

“It was so humiliating, Haz,” Louis says. He can feel the salty sting of moisture as tears begin to prickle in the corners of his eyes, but he tries to hold them in. “Ileana did such a good job of proving how weak I was. I was so ashamed sitting there watching the clip of Zee dumping me, but her questioning was far worse. I felt like all the protective walls I’d spent so many years building came crumbling down around me and I was so broken and terrified.” He barks a watery laugh. “And then, Marcus’ defense was basically to give examples of the terrible things Zee had said to me and to prove that he treated me poorly, and I know he is on my side and was doing his job, but it still hurt to be reminded of all that I’d put up with Zee, of all the things I’d willingly put myself through.”

He collapses fully onto Harry then, burying his face in Harry’s neck as a few tears escape his eyes and run down his cheeks. “It was so awful, Harry.”

Harry squeezes him tight and then rolls Louis over so he’s on his back. When Louis looks into his eyes, he sees that Harry is crying too.

“I guess we weren’t the luckiest in love on Earth, Lou,” he says and he runs his fingertips over Louis’ cheek and leans in, ever so lightly pressing his lips against Louis’. “But I’ve never felt so lucky as I do here with you, and that’s all that matters now. We’re together and what we have is everything. There’s nothing better than that. There’s nothing better than _us_.”

“There’s nothing better than us,” Louis agrees.

“So even though we each had a shitty day and things didn’t turn out as we’d planned, I’m so grateful, Louis. I can’t believe I get to know you, much less be here with you now. I can’t believe you love me.”

“Harry,” Louis answers, and he feels himself once again choke up, his voice thick with tears. “I’m the one who is lucky, love. I can’t believe I get to have _you_. I feel like I need to constantly pinch myself because _you_ love me.”

“We’re soul mates, Louis. We have each other. It’s the best thing, isn’t it?”

“It is. I love you so much, darling.”

Louis reaches his hands up and once again fans them over Harry’s butterfly tattoo. “Were you always going to get the butterfly, Harry?” Louis asks, going back to the original topic.

“No,” Harry answers and then he rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically. “The butterfly tattoo was supposed to be Mika’s initials, intertwined with mine in a heart.”

Louis’ eyes go wide and his mouth falls open and he can’t help himself, he starts giggling at the very idea of such a tacky tattoo. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Hazza?” he exclaims, and Harry grins and starts laughing along with him.

“Yep. It wasn’t my idea, of course. Thank whoever is in charge of this universe thing that Mika didn’t go into the tattoo shop with me on the day I got it done, or I might have actually gone through with that bloody nightmare of a tattoo.”

“You know, Harry, getting someone’s initials tattooed on your body is the quickest way to ensure a breakup,” Louis says with a grin.

“I know! And that’s exactly the excuse I made when I came home with the butterfly. Mika was positively furious that I’d picked something different.”

“Why did you?” Louis asks, his voice growing serious.

“Because, Lou, just like you did with Zee, I knew in my heart that mine and Mika’s relationship was wrong. It was totally unhealthy and I didn’t want Mika’s initials tattooed forever on my skin. I saw the butterfly and the complimentary collar piece,” and he traces his fingers over Louis’ tattoo as he speaks, “and I just knew that’s what I wanted. I knew I was meant to have that tattoo, but I already had the swallows on my collarbones, so I just got the butterfly and I couldn’t have been happier with how it turned out.”

“It turned out beautiful,” Louis agrees.

“And it goes perfectly with yours,” Harry replies and he plants a series of kisses along the tattoo inked onto Louis’ collarbones.

The two lay cuddled together in comfortable silence for several minutes and just as Louis feels his body start to relax, Harry reaches over and turns off the light on the bedside table. He rolls off Louis and onto his side, dragging Louis along with him so that Louis is now spooned up behind Harry’s broad back. Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s chest and he kisses the soft skin behind Harry’s ear, Harry squirming and smiling at the sensation.

“We’ll talk more in the morning, yeah?” Harry asks.

“Of course, love. We should probably get some sleep. I know you must be positively knackered.”

Harry hums in agreement. The room is still and Louis glides his hand up Harry’s body, his fingertips tracing over the muscular planes of his abdomen and the sloping curves of his chest. They lay together in silence, the only sound in the room the inhale and exhale of their breaths, Louis basking in the comfort of holding Harry so close, but his heart still heavy with worry.

Eventually, Louis begins to feel the welcome pull of sleep; he’s so exhausted and emotionally drained after all he’s been through, all _they’ve_ been through, and he just wants to start over in the morning and put this entire day behind them. He’s nearly drifted off when Harry breaks the silence, his own voice thick and teetering on the edge of slumber.

“Lou,” Harry whispers, and Louis stirs, snuggling closer to Harry and murmuring, “Yes, love?” in response.

“I meant what I said, Louis… earlier tonight,” Harry replies, his voice slow and heavy.

Louis is so tired, his entire body weighed with fatigue. “What did you mean, darling?” he asks, his eyes closed and his mind skipping over the events of the evening, his body ready to fully give in to a deep sleep.

Harry doesn’t answer him at first. His breathing is heavy and then it evens out and Louis suspects that he’s fallen asleep. Louis is just about to go completely under himself, is just about to give in to unconsciousness, when Harry answers, his voice barely above a whisper, his words mumbled together as Harry treads the thin precipice between awake and asleep.

“That I’d rather know what it’s like for you to make love to me… even if we’re separated, than to never know at all…” Harry’s voice tapers off at the end and Louis knows he’s fallen asleep, can hear Harry let out the quietest, snuffling snore.

But Louis suddenly feels very awake, because the realization of what he has done hits him like a ton of bricks.

_Fucking hell._

What if he was entirely wrong on how he handled everything? What if his best intentions were completely misguided and he didn’t save Harry any heartache by withholding his love from him? What if in doing so, he actually will have caused Harry _more_ heartache in the long run?

Louis’ mind races over his dinner with Donald and how devastated he was over the loss of his soul mate. Donald practically radiated anguish and Louis couldn’t have been wrong in wanting to spare Harry the same fate, could he? He thinks about his talk with Mitchell, how Mitchell lamented that the consummation of Donald and Jane’s relationship was the one thing that was keeping Donald from allowing himself to love again because he knew he could never experience love with any other person like he had with Jane. But what if Mitchell was wrong? What if Donald would have been heartbroken either way? What if Donald’s misery would have been even worse if he had never had that one night of intimacy with his true love?

When Louis denied Harry, he was trying to do what was best for him, he honestly was. But now he’s just confused and angry with himself. Once again, he feels the hot rush of tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

Why did he make such a serious decision in such haste? He’d spent under two hours with Donald and he allowed that short window of time to unravel something he and Harry had been building towards since the day they met, from the moment they first laid eyes on each other, actually.

Louis wants to scream. How could he have been so firm in his resolve over something that affected both of them without properly talking things over with Harry? He was so fucking arrogant in the way he just took charge of the entire situation. He didn’t even give Harry a chance to tell Louis what he wanted or have any input at all, Louis just made the decision for both of them and now it’s too late. Tomorrow is their final Review session and for all Louis knows, the justices might decide their fate immediately after closing arguments. What if this is the last time he gets to hold Harry in his arms? What if he’s sent back to Earth and Harry has to live out eternity wondering what it’s like to make love with his soul mate? Harry doesn’t deserve to spend eternity heartbroken over losing Louis, but he certainly doesn’t deserve to spend it locked in the painful prison of “what if” forever, either.

Mitchell told Louis that making love with one’s soul mate was the equivalent of heaven and Louis denied Harry that moment of pure bliss. Not only that, but Louis denied _himself_ that very experience. By withholding his love from Harry, he betrayed them both, because doesn’t Louis deserve to have that moment too?

_I’m such a fucking idiot._

Harry’s body is snuggled up against Louis and he looks so lovely and peaceful and all Louis can think is what a massive mistake he’s made. Louis feels his heart pounding in his chest, his body trembling with regret. He can feel the moisture spilling down his cheeks and he blinks his eyes, watching as one of his tears falls into one of Harry’s chestnut curls and disappears.

“I’m so, so sorry, Harry,” Louis murmurs and he holds Harry tighter, gets as close to Harry as possible. Harry’s sleeping body is relaxed and pliant and Louis clings to his warmth, desperate to hold on for as long as he can. “Please forgive me, darling,” he whispers and he presses his lips to Harry’s shoulder and then closes his eyes, his mind heavy as he wills himself to go to sleep.


	18. Final Session

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!! Homophobic language in this chapter.
> 
> This chapter is insanely long. It's also my favorite of this entire fic, so I hope you all enjoy.  
> Thanks again to all of my lovely subscribers, and to all of you who are leaving the nice comments and kudos. Your feedback means so much and is greatly appreciated. :)  
> Peace, love, and Larry. xx

_Louis is running. His feet are slow as he navigates the railroad tracks, awkwardly skipping over the crossties, trying to keep up with the train that shrinks smaller and smaller in the distance._

_He’s just so fucking tired, but he forces himself to keep moving._

_Harry’s all but disappeared from his view, the outline of his body no longer visible in the rear window of the train’s caboose car, but Louis knows he’s there and he won’t give up. Despite the dense fog and the exhaustion that is so heavy it actually feels like it’s seeping through his pores, Louis is not going to stop._

_But then it happens; he trips on a large rock mixed in with the gravel and he falls, landing hard on one of the wooden ties, his body splayed out over the rocks and the wood, his hands and knees bleeding and bruised. He starts to force himself up, manages to get up on his knees even, but then his shoulders slump forward because the urge to sleep is so powerful._

_He knows that he can let go and then all of this will be over and this miserable heartbreak will be lost to him forever. But so then will be Harry, and he’s been fighting too hard and loves Harry too much just to quit. He’ll hang on for as long as he can._

_“Harry,” he cries softly, as his eyes slowly blink shut. He’s trying desperately to stay awake, but it’s a losing battle and his body is being pulled under. If he can just rest, just for a second or two, maybe he’ll be able to stand and continue on._

_“Harry,” he whispers again, as the name he says starts to lose all meaning, starts to dissipate into a cloud of fragmented memories that shatter and splinter and disintegrate into dust._

_He tries to hang on, but he’s letting go._

_“Harry,” he cries louder, but the word is nonsensical; it’s nothing at all but colors that flash before him in a dynamic field of light, disappearing into a tunnel of darkness._

_He huffs a breath and falls forward onto the tracks, his body no longer capable of holding itself upright, his mind completely muddled._

_He’s giving in and he no longer even knows enough to care, his thoughts slipping away, and all that remains are a series of letters that dance before him that he doesn’t quite understand: H-A-…_

_He lets go, relaxing into the soothing embrace of the dark tunnel, the echoing sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears._

_Everything he’s ever known is dissipating behind him, but ahead, he sees a shimmering pinpoint that slowly expands into a warm circle of light and he wants to go toward it, is moving in that very direction._

_He feels a warm hand on his shoulder._

“Looouuuis.”

Louis sits up in bed, his heart racing in his chest, his body jolted awake.

“Lou, no,” Harry calls, his voice anxious and slurred.

Louis looks around, disoriented at first, but then he eyes Harry curled within his arms and he’s instantaneously alert.

For the first time since he started having these awful nightmares he isn’t stuck in some strange state of semi-consciousness when he awakens from one of his terrible dreams. This time, he’s fully cognizant, and he’s immediately aware of the twitching, shaking body he holds and his mouth falls open, because Harry is still sleeping but he’s talking in his sleep and Louis suspects he’s having a nightmare of his own.

“They’re wrong,” Harry mumbles, “You can’t leave me,” he pleads, and even though Harry is clearly asleep, his closed eyes are wet and a stray tear streams down his cheek. “Please, Lou,” he cries.

Louis stomach clenches with fear, his body immediately thrumming with anxiety, because now Harry is experiencing these miserable sleep-induced premonitions that have been tormenting Louis, and the things Harry is saying in his unconsciousness are filling Louis with dread.

Louis has to stop this right now.

“Harry, wake up, love,” he whispers, his voice bordering on panicked. Harry lets out a low groan and sniffles, muttering for Louis to stay. Louis nudges his shoulder, at first gently, but then pushing against Harry’s milky skin more forcefully, his fingers clutching Harry’s tattooed bicep as he starts to shake him, Louis practically willing him to wake up. “Please, Haz, wake up for me!” he says, his voice loud and high pitched.

Harry rolls onto his back and flutters his eyes open. He looks at Louis and his expression is one of total confusion, as if he doesn’t know where he is or how he even got here. He opens his mouth to speak, at first silently gasping for words that won’t come, but then he draws in a choked breath and blurts out Louis’ name, bursting into tears.

“It’s okay, darling. I’m right here.” Louis answers, trying his best to make his voice sound calm and not quite succeeding. Harry turns onto his side to face Louis and Louis wraps him in his arms, pulling Harry close. “I promise you, Harry, I’m right here.”

“You were leaving me, Louis,” Harry chokes, his breath hot against Louis’ neck. “You were going away and I was so frightened. I didn’t want to move forward without you.” His fingertips dig into Louis’ shoulder blades, his voice full of anguish as he asks, “What the fuck is happening to me? Why would I dream something so awful as you leaving me?”

“I don’t know…” Louis tries. “It was just a nightmare, love. I’m so sorry.”

Harry doesn’t respond, instead, in a stealth move, he pushes Louis flat onto his back and then climbs on top of him, straddling Louis’ hips and pinning his arms against the mattress. Harry’s movements are so fast that Louis doesn’t even know what’s happening until his head hits the pillow and he sees Harry hovering over him. “You’re not fucking leaving me, Louis!” Harry practically shouts, his expression anguished and angry. “You’re not!”

“Harry, I –” Louis starts, but before he can finish, Harry is smashing his lips against Louis’, kissing him so hungrily that it makes Louis head spin. Louis doesn’t fight him though; he almost immediately gives in and kisses Harry back. Harry releases Louis’ wrists and begins moving his hands down Louis’ body and Louis threads his fingers through Harry’s hair, pulling him in closer, his whole being desperate and aching for Harry’s touch. Harry thrusts his tongue into Louis’ mouth and Louis licks his own against it hungrily. He can feel his cock begin to fatten in his pants and he doesn’t care. He was such a fucking arsehole to deny Harry his love and he silently curses himself for allowing what happened with Donald and Jane to influence his relationship with him. He and Harry deserve this and he’s so angry that he didn’t realize this last night. He’s so mad at himself for thinking that denying Harry his love would actually help him if Louis gets sent back to Earth. They deserve to have everything, they’re soul mates for fuck’s sake, and Louis is going to show Harry how much he loves him if it’s the last thing he does in this realm.

He slides his hands down Harry’s back, dipping his fingertips beneath the waistband of Harry’s pants and grabbing on to Harry’s arse, kneading the firm flesh. Harry lets out a loud gasp and then rocks his hips downward; rubbing his clothed, hardening dick against Louis’ and Louis sees white spots behind his eyes, the friction so good. Louis spreads his fingers, his small hands cupping Harry’s cheeks and then spreading them apart and Harry actually growls, tonguing into Louis’ mouth harder, his hands sliding up Louis’ chest and squeezing his ribs as if he needs something to hold onto. As if he needs something to ground him.

Louis lifts his hips off the mattress and Harry once again grinds down, their cocks rutting together and the sensation so overwhelming that Louis can do nothing but whine and lift his hips once more to chase the feeling again, Harry pressing back into him with equal fervor.

Louis is completely encompassed. Harry is on top of him and moving with him in perfect time, his hands running all over Louis’ body as if he’s staking claim. It’s frenetic and so passionate that Louis feels like he’s burning up, like his body might just burst into a million particles, his longing so intense.

And he just wants more.

Harry takes his hands off Louis just long enough to pull down his own pants, kicking them off his feet and then reaching and grabbing for Louis’ waistband to do the same. Louis raises his hips willingly, because he’s going to allow this to happen. He knows he may get sent back to Earth and separated from Harry, but if that’s his fate, he’s going to make sure that Harry knows what it’s like to be loved by his soul mate before he goes. He’s going to show Harry his love and he’s going to show it to him right now. They both want this, and Louis knows it.

Louis lets go of Harry long enough to allow him to tug his pants over his arse and down his legs, Louis barely having time to push them off his feet before Harry is on top of him again and this time, when he grinds his dick against’ Louis’ there is no material to get in the way, it’s just skin on skin contact and it’s utter bliss.

Harry clamps his mouth over Louis’ again and Louis greedily receives him, the kiss a clash of tongues and teeth, wet and sloppy, and utterly perfect. Louis runs his hands over the strong muscles of Harry’s back, his thumbs gliding over the knobs of Harry’s spine and settling in the dip directly above his bum, his fingertips crawling down Harry’s crack, causing him to moan loudly into Louis’ mouth.

Harry’s hard dick is pressed against Louis’, the two cocks trapped one atop the other between their two bodies, both men jerking and grinding to get more friction.

Louis is ready.

He wants so much more and he knows now is the time. He’s going to take it further and he’s not going to let his worries about the results of his Review stop him. He wants to give Harry everything. This is their moment, what they’ve been waiting for, and so Louis starts to push Harry off of so he can get him onto his back.

“Haz,” Louis pants, as he rolls Harry flat against the mattress and hovers over him, his body stretched out at Harry’s side as he props up one elbow to speak.

But almost instantly, Harry freezes. His eyes go wide and he furrows his brow, blinking slowly in disbelief. It’s not until he speaks that Louis realizes that Harry has completely misinterpreted Louis’ actions and that he thinks Louis is pushing him away. Harry’s voice is pleading and tinged with anger when he grunts out, “Don’t you dare stop this, Louis.” His eyes search Louis’ face and he looks both frustrated and brokenhearted when he adds, “Please, don’t you fucking stop.”

Louis is just about to tell him that he doesn’t intend on stopping, that he’s certain that stopping the previous night was one of the biggest mistakes he’s ever made, and that he just wants Harry on his back so that he can prep him, so that he can easily reach the lube in the nightstand drawer and slick up his fingers and start working him open. He’s so desperate to touch Harry, to explore the tight, deep heat of his body with his fingers and his cock that his hands are actually trembling. He starts to open his mouth to respond, is just getting ready to tell Harry exactly what he wants to do to him, when the phone rings.

Louis positively wants to scream.

“No! No! No!” Harry shouts and he shoves Louis away, scrubbing his hands over his face. Louis feels like his world is falling apart, he thinks he might actually start crying because he was so close to having everything he’s ever wanted and it’s been pulled right out of his grasp. Harry just stares at him angrily as the phone continues to ring, his chest heaving, his face flushed and streaked with dry tears, and his hair a wild mess of tangled strands and loose curls sticking out in all directions.

“Harry, I wasn’t going to –” Louis starts, but Harry cuts him off.

“Answer the phone, Louis,” he says, his voice harsh and short.

Louis can’t find his voice to respond because he doesn’t even know what’s happening. He has absolutely no idea how everything turned so terrible so quickly, but it’s very obvious Harry is angry with him and Louis is certain it’s because Harry thinks Louis was going to once again thwart his advances. He feels his stomach twist with the knowledge that Harry automatically expected Louis to disappoint and reject him, like he is already used to Louis letting him down.

Harry throws back the covers and gets out of bed, marching toward the en suite without saying another word.

The phone continues to ring, and finally Louis reaches over and answers it, weakly thanking the front desk attendant for the wake up call and telling her that “yes,” she can send up breakfast in thirty-five minutes.

Harry hasn’t closed the door to the en suite all the way and Louis can hear the shower running but he doesn’t know what to do. His mind is racing because he has to go and make this better between them, but he has no idea how. His cock is still hard between his legs and he knows Harry must still be hard too. They were on the verge of having it all and then Louis’ big mouth and that fucking wakeup call ruined everything.

Louis has to talk to Harry. He can’t bear the thought of Harry being mad at him, especially today. It’s their very last day in Judgment City and he has no idea what will happen in regards to their final sessions, or how quickly their judgments will be made after closing arguments. He can’t believe he never thought to ask Marcus how the decision process works. What if they don’t get to see each other again after they go into their separate Review Rooms? Louis rubs at his eyes, willing himself not to cry as he quietly pads to the en suite.

“Haz,” Louis says loud enough so that Harry can hear him over the running water. He pushes the door open, just a bit wider. “Can I come in, love?”

“It’s your bathroom, Louis. You can do whatever you want.”

 _Shit_.

Harry sounds so cold and angry and Louis feels that unpleasant, and all-too-familiar nervous sensation churning in his stomach, worry slowly beginning to ring out throughout his entire body.

He pushes the door open a little further and enters the en suite and is surprised to find that Harry has left the glass door to the shower open. Louis approaches it, but he doesn’t cross the threshold, he doesn’t step into the defined shower space, he just hovers at the entrance. Harry’s back is to him, his hands flat on the shower wall and his head ducked under the spray. Water pours down his body, traveling across the planes of his back, tiny streams gliding down his firm arse and beading in the hair on his legs.

Louis feels his cock twitch and he holds his hands in front of his groin, trying to conceal his erection because for the first time since he’s met Harry, Louis feels ashamed of his own nudity, like he doesn’t deserve to be standing naked and aroused in front of the man he desperately loves.

 _I’m such a fuck-up_ , he thinks.

“Harry,” he says, his voice cracking. “I promise you, love. What just happened in there, when I rolled you off of me… it’s not what you think.”

Harry drops his hands from the shower wall and slowly turns around to face Louis and Louis can’t help himself; his eyes flit over Harry’s body and Harry’s cock is still half hard and his wet hair is plastered to his head and water is pouring over him and he’s the most beautiful thing Louis has ever seen.

“Put your hands down, Louis,” Harry commands and Louis opens his eyes wide in surprise. Harry just stares at him, his eyes are so green, but his pupils are blown so his irises are only thin emerald rings that surround deep pools of black. He looks like he wants to devour Louis whole, but he also looks angry and confused and if Louis is being honest with himself, there is also sadness in Harry’s expression. “Please, Louis,” Harry says, and this time his voice is softer, urgent even, and Louis does as he’s told immediately, sliding his cupped hands away from his groin and resting them on either hip.

Louis feels completely exposed and on display, his body thrumming with desire, his mind clouded by shame. Harry looks him up and down and steps forward just an inch or so, so that the spray of water is hitting him at the back of the neck, cascading over his shoulders and running down his torso and long limbs to pool at his feet and then disappear down the drain.

Louis doesn’t move.

Harry places his hand in the center of his chest, directly over his butterfly tattoo. “Don’t you want me, Louis?” he asks, and then he spreads his fingers wide, and ever so slowly he moves his hand downward over the tight muscles of his abdomen, lightly grazing his fingertips back and forth across the contoured planes of his taut belly before moving his hand lower and dancing his long fingers over the thin trail of hair below his belly button until they glide into the thick, curly patch that surrounds his cock.

Louis’ heart begins to pound harder in his chest and his skin tickles all over. The unhurried and deliberate way in which Harry moves his hand over his body has got Louis’ dick even harder so that it’s curved, the head resting flush against his stomach and Louis just wants to touch it, but more than that, he just wants to touch Harry. But instead, he stands there and watches as Harry’s beautiful long fingertips slowly start to play along his shaft, his dick immediately starting to fatten and grow beneath his delicate touch until he’s once again fully hard. When Harry wraps his hand around the base of his cock and begins to gently pull, Louis thinks he very well may pass out.

“I want you so badly,” Louis mutters.

Harry corkscrews his thumb and index finger around the base of his head, wrapping his hand around the tight ring of his retracted foreskin, and then dragging his thumb over his slit, mewling softly at the sensation, his eyes never leaving Louis’.

Louis clenches his hands into tight fists and continues to stare, his own eyes darting back and forth between Harry’s eyes and Harry’s cock, which Harry continues to stroke and tug, his body rocking in time to his movements.

Just then, Harry experiences a particularly intense sensation and he stands on the balls of his feet, his tall body stretching and rising to chase the feeling. It’s absolutely breathtaking to watch and Louis doesn’t even notice that his own body is moving and rocking in tandem with Harry’s, as if he’s riding the current with him, Harry’s pleasure his own.

“Don’t you want to fuck me, Louis?” Harry grunts and the words shoot straight to Louis’ dick and he actually flinches. He’s starting to sweat; the steam from Harry’s shower feels almost suffocating and that combined with his own, burning desire is making Louis dizzy.

“I want to make love to you,” Louis answers and Harry’s eyes fall shut. He only keeps them closed briefly though, and when he again opens them they bore into Louis, Harry watching him carefully as he picks up the pace a little and starts to move his hand faster. “After we’ve made love for the first time, Harry,” Louis continues, his voice raw, “that’s when I’ll fuck you.”

Harry groans loudly and begins to twist his hand up and down his shaft and Louis can tell that he’s squeezing just a little bit tighter, knows by the way that he’s stretching and rolling up onto his tiptoes again and again, that he is working himself harder. The head of his cock is dripping with precome and Harry swipes his palm over it, slicks it up so his movements are faster, with only the slightest drag that makes Harry let out soft little whimpers on every upstroke. And all the while, he keeps staring at Louis.

Louis thinks he might lose his mind.

The way Harry is looking at Louis is making his skin itch; he wants him so desperately it physically hurts. Not to mention the fact that his own cock is painfully hard and throbbing, Louis’ head bright red, a bead of precome welling in his slit. But more than just all of that, the moment itself is so intense and so deeply personal that Louis is beside himself. The humid air in the shower feels charged and Louis is consumed with conflicting emotions as he watches Harry pleasure himself. It’s so erotic and beautiful and bittersweet that Louis can hardly bear it; he feels like his entire body is vibrating with kinetic energy, that at any moment he’ll lose all control and disappear completely. He’s so caught up in watching Harry that he doesn’t even realize that he’s digging his fingernails into his thighs and leaving tiny little crescent shaped marks all over his skin as he fights not to grab for his own dick, but there is absolutely no way he is going to touch himself. He doesn’t want to do anything that will take his attention away from Harry and if he starts getting himself off, he knows he will lose this moment.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Harry,” Louis whimpers. “I love you so much. I swear I want you so badly. You’ve no idea how much I want you.”

Harry glides his free hand up his chest and pinches his nipple hard, his back arching and precome blurting out of the head of his cock, Harry gasping at his own touch and Louis making the same desperate noise at the sight before him.

“Do you want to see me come?” Harry asks, his words raspy and punctuated by heavy breaths, his hand now racing up and down his length, chasing his orgasm.

Louis nods his head and ekes out a meek, “Yes.”

Harry pinches his nipple again with his free hand, and then with stuttering movements, swipes that hand downward across his chest, settling his palm on the top of his leg so that his fingertips are moving over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh.

Louis cannot control the whimper that escapes his lips at the sight of him.

Harry starts to pull his cock harder and faster, his lips parted and his eyes glassy as he continues to stare at Louis.

“I’m so close,” Harry breathes as he wraps his hand around his head on an upstroke, his other hand squeezing his thigh and then raking over his balls.

“Come for me, darling,” Louis whispers, his voice so quiet he’s surprised when Harry groans loudly in response.

With Louis’ words, Harry’s entire body stiffens, his abdominal muscles clenching as he lets out a loud cry and comes: thick spurts pulsing out of his fisted cock like a volcano erupting, the creamy white liquid splashing onto his chest and dripping over the top of his hand. All the while, Harry rocks up and down, rolling back and forth between the heels and the balls of his feet, riding the wave of his orgasm through until the very end. He looks so gorgeous and Louis is so turned on that he can’t stand it any longer, he has to get closer, he has to touch him, but he doesn’t want to do so without permission, doesn’t think he deserves to touch Harry after all that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours.

“Can I…” Louis mumbles, his voice unsure. He doesn’t finish his sentence; too frightened that maybe Harry has had enough of Louis Tomlinson and will push him away. Harry stares at him, his eyes heavily lidded as he comes down from his orgasm. Louis averts his own eyes, suddenly overtaken with emotion as tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. “Haz,” he croaks, and then buries his face in his palms.

The room is quiet for a moment; the only noise their ragged breaths and the heavy pounding waterfall of the shower. But neither of these noises even begins to drown out the sound of Louis’ beating heart, which rings loudly in his ears.

“Louis, look at me,” Harry says, his voice heavy and wrecked. Louis takes a moment and then does as he’s told, rubbing his fingers over his eyes to brush away the moisture and then raising his head so that his gaze meets Harry’s.

Harry lifts his hand from his thigh and extends it to Louis, beckoning him to come to him. Louis takes the step across the threshold and enters the shower, pulling the glass door closed behind him. He reaches his own hand to take Harry’s, and as soon as their hands connect, Harry is pulling Louis into his body and turning him so that Louis’ back is flush against the cool slate tile of the shower wall.

For the most part, Harry’s body is blocking the cascade of water from the overhead nozzle, but a light spray is bouncing off his skin and flicking onto Louis, beading over his chest and neck and raining little droplets on his face.  

Louis’ chest is rapidly rising and falling in heavy, panting breaths and he looks between their bodies and sees the come sticking to the taut muscles of Harry’s abdomen and he doesn’t think twice, he just has to drag his fingertips through the mess, Harry drawing in a sharp breath when Louis then brings those fingers up to his mouth and slowly sucks the come off their tips.

Harry moves in closer, crowding Louis and when Harry’s groin presses against Louis’ cock, Louis cries lowly, because he is so hard and desperate to be touched he thinks he might combust. Harry winces, his own cock hypersensitive from his release and so he pulls back just enough to allow his hand to slide between their bodies and then he gently curls his fingers around Louis’ dick. Louis yelps loudly in response because his neglected cock is finally getting some attention and the contact is almost too much. He wraps his hands around Harry’s ribcage then, scrabbling for purchase, because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stand upright for very long on his own if Harry keeps touching him this way.

Harry moves his free hand up the side of Louis’ neck, sliding his fingertips through Louis’ hair and gliding his thumb back and forth over Louis’ cheekbone as he begins to twist his opposite hand up and down Louis’ shaft, Louis squirming beneath him at Harry’s expert touch.

Harry is so close and staring at Louis so intently that Louis can see the little flecks of gold that accentuate his green eyes, can feel Harry’s warm breath on his own lips. Harry drops his head and licks over Louis’ Adam’s apple, nipping at the sensitive flesh as he swipes his hand over the head of Louis’ cock, the traces of come left from his own orgasm mixing with Louis’ precome to make his palm slick and his movements easy as he tightens his grip and strokes Louis harder.

Harry presses his forehead against Louis’ then, his tone hard and serious as he declares, “You’re not fucking leaving me, Louis.” Louis blinks his eyes, completely overwhelmed because Harry is all over him: his thighs are bracketing Louis’, their feet touching, and their chests and hips repeatedly bumping together with each perfect stroke of Harry’s hand. “I’m not losing you. Do you hear me? You’re my soul mate, Louis, and you’re not fucking going back to Earth.”

“Harry,” Louis mumbles, barely able to speak. Every drag of Harry’s hand up and down Louis’ shaft sends a trail of sparkling currents that buzz and skip from the root of Louis’ dick to the tip of its head and the sensation is so potent that Louis feels positively intoxicated. His body feels electric, energy thrumming through his veins, his groin tingling as heat begins to pull heavy in his gut. His fingers slide around Harry’s sides and dig into his back. Louis won’t last long; he knows that, he’s so hard he feels like he could cut glass with the head of his prick.

“Say it!” Harry orders and then he squeezes Louis’ shaft tighter, tugs harder and Louis groans, rolling his forehead back and forth against Harry’s as Harry continues to stare into his eyes. “Tell me you’re staying with me, Louis. Tell me that no matter what happens, you’ll fight for me, you’ll fight for us, because I cannot lose you. I _won’t_ lose you.”

“I want to stay with you Ha –” Louis starts, but Harry cuts him off, jerking his hand and making Louis cry out as another maddening jolt of pleasure radiates from his cock, sending ripples throughout his body as Harry orders, “Don’t you tell me you _want_ to stay with me, Louis. Tell me you _will_.”

Louis is completely overcome. His skin is burning and Harry’s hand feels so amazing that Louis is almost transcendent, like he and Harry have reached a whole new level of intimacy and Louis is so aroused and greedy for it that he just might float away on the high. But he’s also terrified that no matter what he promises Harry, he won’t be able to control his fate, that his destiny is already written even, and the last thing he wants to do is disappoint Harry more.

Harry nuzzles his cheek against Louis’ and his voice is desperate when he pleads, “Please. Just believe in us, Lou. I know you’re frightened, but you have to fight for us; you can’t just give up, and when you push me away, that’s exactly what you’re doing; you’re giving up on us. Please don’t do that. Please don’t give up on us.”

When Harry pulls back to look at Louis again, his eyes are wet and even though Louis wasn’t going to deny Harry this morning before the wake-up call, Harry doesn’t know that. Louis made it abundantly clear last night that he wasn’t going to make love to Harry and obviously that message is still resonating in Harry’s head.

Harry bites along Louis’ jaw line and drags his thumb over the thick vein that runs along the underside of Louis’ cock and then drops his hand lower, Louis automatically spreading his legs outward in response. Harry briefly cradles Louis’ balls before gliding his index finger underneath them and pressing hard against Louis’ taint. Louis lets out a sharp cry and drops his head on Harry’s shoulder, shockwaves of pleasure thrumming straight through the sensitive skin and pounding directly against his prostate from below. Harry grabs onto the back of Louis’ head then, tugging on his hair, his voice once again firm and in control as he commands, “Don’t you fucking give up on us, Louis.”

Louis is completely engulfed. He’s so close to coming, can feel his abdominal muscles start to clench, can feel the tight heat that is coiling in his gut getting ready to spring free, but he also is struck with the realization that if there ever has been anything or anyone worth fighting for in the whole of his existence, it’s Harry, and he’s not just going to throw in the towel and resign himself to going back to Earth. They belong together and fucking hell, they both deserve to move forward.

“I’ll fight for us Harry,” Louis pants, his voice stilted from the way Harry is working him over, but nonetheless sure. He lets go of Harry’s torso and moves his hands around either side of Harry’s head, gripping his cheeks as he looks him in the eyes and when he speaks again, his mouth is so close to Harry’s that the words practically bounce off Harry’s lips and back onto his own. “I won’t give up… I swear to you… I’ll do everything I can to convince them to let me stay with you… I promise you, love. I’ll fucking fight.”

Harry chokes a watery gasp and his fingers tighten against Louis’ scalp, his other hand gripping Louis’ cock harder and then suddenly, he lets go and Louis could just scream at the loss, he was so fucking close. But no sooner does Harry take his hands away, than he drops to his knees and swallows down Louis’ length in one swift movement and Louis throws back his head and bangs it hard on the shower wall, but he doesn’t even feel the pain, all he feels is the hot, wet heat of Harry’s mouth clamped tight around his cock and the heavy spray of water now beating directly on his chest.

Harry is clutching Louis’ thigh with one hand as he bobs his head up and down over Louis’ length, the other hand corkscrewing around the base of Louis’ shaft. Louis closes his eyes at the delicious pressure as the head of his dick nudges the back of Harry’s throat, Harry’s lips and tongue relentless as he sucks hard.

Louis tugs on Harry’s hair, because he’s going to come. He feels momentarily dizzy as seemingly all the blood rushes from his brain to his dick and then Harry slides his hands up Louis’ thighs, wrapping them around his arse and dipping his hands between Louis’ cheeks. Harry presses his fingertip against Louis’ rim and that’s all it takes.

He comes hard, his orgasm like an explosion that he feels in every cell of his body, his entire being shaking with his release. Harry doesn’t pull off; he just keeps his mouth tight over Louis, sucking him off until he’s milked him proper and Louis has to fight to stay upright, his legs weak and trembling.

Harry slides back then, Louis’ dick falling from his mouth and Harry coughing and spluttering and gasping for breath because he’d taken Louis so deep and so quickly, that he almost forgot to breathe. He slowly rises to his feet and then wraps his hands around Louis’ own, dragging him over to the bench seat and sitting down, pulling Louis right on top of his lap as they both pant hard and try to catch their breaths. Louis curls his legs up and folds into Harry’s warm body, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and holding tight. As they come down from the high of their orgasms and the intensity of the encounter, Harry declares, “We’re moving forward together, Louis.”

Louis nods his head rapidly, his face buried in Harry’s neck as he promises, “We are. We’re moving forward together, Harry. I swear, I’m going to fight for us.”

They stay entwined for several minutes just holding each other, and Louis feels like they’ve come to a resolution: they both are committed to doing everything they can to stay together, but he also knows they are each silently praying that the universe is on their side.

Louis starts to tell Harry that he wasn’t going to push him away earlier, that he fully intended on making love to him this morning, but then he stops himself when he realizes that doing so will only fill Harry with another “what if,” should Louis be sent back to Earth. Everything about their situation is so complicated and although Louis is panicked over the potential outcome of his Review, he’s not sure that this terrible feeling of limbo over what may or may not happen is any better. He wants nothing more than to be able to move on to the next realm with Harry. Is that too fucking much to ask?

Finally, when time is running out and they know that they absolutely have to get ready to start their day, they reluctantly get up from the bench.

“Haz,” Louis says, his voice hushed as Harry pulls Louis toward the spray of water.

“Yeah, Lou?” Harry answers quietly.

“Are we okay?”

Harry stops for a moment and then he slowly turns and looks at Louis, the air thick around them, and then Harry reaches out and grabs him, hugging him close. Louis feels relief wash over him as he rests his cheek on Harry’s shoulder.

“Yeah, sweetheart. We’re okay,” Harry answers and then he lets out a heavy sigh. “I just want all of this to be over. I can’t wait until our final sessions are finished and we’re sitting on that train together and moving on to the next realm. I think we’ll both finally be able to breathe properly when that happens.”

At first, Louis doesn’t respond. What can he say? He’s certainly not going to contest anything Harry has said to him by arguing that they don’t know what is going to happen and he might get sent back to Earth. He promised Harry he is going to fight for them, and he is, so maybe, just maybe things will turn out all right.

“I can’t wait for that either, love,” Louis replies, and he can feel the relieved smile on Harry’s face when Harry huffs a soft little breath against his cheek.

Harry pulls away then, grabbing a loofah from the built-in shower shelf and handing it to Louis.

“Wash my back?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and biting his bottom lip suggestively.

“Absolutely,” Louis answers, and he swats Harry lightly on the bum. “Turn around then, let me see those beautiful shoulders.”

Harry turns, standing under the spray of water and he washes his hair while Louis gently runs the soapy loofah over his body, and then they switch, Louis taking his turn under the hot stream while Harry takes the loofah from him and carefully washes Louis clean. Their movements are slow and reverent, peppered with kisses pressed into each other’s flesh, and constant “I love you’s,” repeated again and again.

Louis meant what he said: he absolutely intends on fighting for Harry. But that doesn’t change the fact that this might be their very last morning together and Louis is positively nauseated by the thought. When they step out of the shower, Harry prevents Louis from reaching for the towel, and as has been their ritual from the start, he drops to his knees and begins to dry Louis off. Louis tries to protest, telling Harry that it’s his turn to take care of him, but Harry will hear nothing of it, muttering, “Let me do this for you, Lou,” and kissing Louis’ kneecap as he works his way up Louis’ legs and begins toweling off his thighs. Louis closes his eyes hard to rein in his tears, begging some unknown entity that this isn’t the last time he gets to experience this intimate gesture with his soul mate.

When they hear the knock on the hotel door heralding the arrival of breakfast, Louis slips on a bathrobe to answer it while Harry stays behind in the en suite, running a towel over his own body to dry off. Louis bounds down the little hallway to the door to his room and when he opens it, he’s greeted by Kate, the same woman who brought him his swim trunks the night before.

“Um, is Donald not on duty today?” Louis asks, concerned about the well-being of his friend. He imagines Donald is suffering quite the hangover this morning, not to mention enduring the after-effects of the emotional drama of recounting his history with Jane.

“He wasn’t feeling well and took the morning off.” Kate’s eyes go wide then as if she’s just remembered something important and she adds, “But he asked if I wouldn’t mind giving you this note.” She removes a sealed, cream colored envelope from her pocket and hands it to Louis. When she’s left and he’s pushed the breakfast cart into the sitting area he opens the envelope and removes a sheet of elegant cardstock bearing The Regency logo. The message from Donald is handwritten across its surface in Donald’s careful script:

 

_Dear Louis,_

_I’m so deeply ashamed of the way I behaved last night and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Yesterday’s anniversary was very difficult for me, and while I’m not trying to make excuses for my poor behavior, I am eternally grateful that I had a friend such as you, who willingly listened to my troubles and was kind enough to assist me back to my flat._

_I wish you all the best for your final Review session._

_Sincerely,_

_Donald_

_P.S. - I want you to know that if you should need my assistance with anything at all, you can reach me directly by calling the hotel, or if I’m not on duty, you can call my private residence at 2-336. Please make memory of the number and destroy this note. _

Louis re-reads the last paragraph three times, his brow furrowed in utter confusion. Since he’s been in Judgment City, Beatrice and Ed have both offered to help him should he need assistance, Beatrice going so far as to offer up two of her friends who he might call, as well. Not only that, but she also made him repeat the number of the Intake Center on their last meeting, just to ensure he knew it.

_Number eight on the dial._

Now, Donald is essentially doing the same thing and Louis is unsure of what all of this means, but the one thing he knows for certain is that everyone who has offered to help him has made sure that he knows to keep the fact that they are willing to assist him to himself.

It is already ingrained in Louis that the number to The Regency is number two on the courtesy phones. So Louis concentrates on the extension to Donald’s flat.

“Three-three-six, three-three-six, three-three-six,” he repeats aloud, committing the number to memory. He can’t believe he’s doing this, he feels like he’s taking part in some sort of secret spy mission and it actually gives him a bit of a thrill, sends a spark of hope through him and he needs all the hope he can get. He tears Donald’s note into tiny pieces, dumping the remnants into the trash bin beneath the desk, before rethinking what he’s doing and digging them back out and running into the en suite, not even noticing Harry as he drops the shredded bits of paper into the toilet and flushes them away.

“Three-three-six,” he repeats as he watches the scraps get siphoned down the bowl.

Harry walks up behind him, curiously looking over his shoulder and staring into the toilet to see what Louis has discarded.

“What are you doing, Lou?” he asks. “What does three-three-six mean?”

Louis turns around to face him, but before he can even answer, he takes in Harry’s appearance and he can’t help but laugh, completely endeared by Harry’s get-up, and also relieved that this distraction will no doubt spare him any heavy interrogation.

Harry stands before him wearing a bath towel secured around his small waist, but it’s the second towel, artfully wrapped around his head in a turban, that is so fascinating. He looks like some kind of ridiculously sexy genie and he grins at Louis dopily and then leans in and smacks their lips together.

Leave it to Harry to lighten the mood after such an intense morning.

Louis shakes his head, smiling so wide he can feel the crinkles emerge in the corners of his eyes.

“Oi! How come you waited until now to show me this look? Your turban is quite fetching, actually,” Louis teases.

Harry pats at the towel on his head; it’s twisted elegantly at the top of his forehead, the soft material piled high, with the end piece forming a tail that hangs over the center of Harry’s back. From the way it’s perfectly secured in place, it’s obvious that this isn’t the first time Harry has wrapped his hair in such a manner.

“Oh this? It’s nothing really,” Harry answers, casually shrugging his shoulders. “Just something I do if I want to hurry along the drying process for my hair. I think it makes my curls extra springy,” he says with a wink. He narrows his eyes in question and nuzzles his nose against Louis’. “What does three-three-six mean, Lou?”

“Oh! Nothing darling, it’s just the number to Donald’s flat.”

“But why were you repeating it? What did you flush down the toilet?”

“I was just trying to memorize it is all. Donald took the morning off, but he sent up his private number in case I needed anything. He’s always so helpful,” Louis answers, his voice nonchalant. Everything he’s said is true, so he doesn’t need to feel guilty about lying to Harry. He would never lie to Harry, but still, he did leave out some details regarding Donald’s note. “You look like a sexy version of that genie in _Aladdin_ ,” he says, his voice light as he tries to change the subject. “Do you have a magic lamp I can rub? Can I make three wishes?”

“Oh, I’ve got a magic lamp you can rub,” Harry laughs, seizing the double entendre, and Louis is thankful the subject of the note is officially dropped. Harry grabs Louis’ hand and leads him out of the en suite and down the hall to the sitting area. He plunks down onto the sofa, pulling Louis next to him and then turning their bodies to lay Louis out over the cushions, Harry splaying on top of him and kissing up his neck. “And as for your three wishes, well… I’ve already made them for both of us.”

Louis giggles and squirms beneath him and when his and Harry’s eyes meet, the moment turns quiet and soft.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Harry answers. “I’ve got you covered, sweetheart.”

He leans down and kisses Louis and Louis closes his eyes and allows himself to get lost in the soft, wet warmth of Harry’s lips. Harry’s mouth moves against his own in gentle, repeated presses and Louis doesn’t think it’s remotely possible that he will ever tire of how good this feels. They pull apart and Harry smiles down at him and then grins mischievously and before Louis knows what’s happening, Harry nods sharply like a genie granting a wish and his turban falls off his head and lands on Louis’ face.

“You’re a horrible genie,” Louis laughs as he pulls off the towel and tosses it to the floor. He swats at Harry’s shoulders in false protest. “Get off me, you beast!”

“We should probably eat breakfast anyway,” Harry grins. He leans over to plant another kiss on Louis’ lips; his damp curls grazing Louis’ cheeks, and then he pulls Louis upright. “Let’s get this day started so we can begin the rest of our forever together,” he adds shyly, his voice hopeful.

“That sounds like an excellent plan, darling,” Louis answers, trying to ignore the sharp pang of worry and doubt that seize his gut at Harry’s words.

They spread out their breakfast on the table, and although The Regency staff have prepared them a veritable feast of bacon and ham, omelets and waffles, crispy fruit tarts, and heaping bowls of honey-topped porridge, they both push their food around on their plates but can barely eat much more than some toast and tea, the seriousness of their situation and the nervousness they have about their final sessions stealing their appetites.

After breakfast, they stand side by side in front of the mirror in the en suite, brushing their teeth and styling their hair, and Harry nudges Louis with his hip, looking at Louis’ reflection in the mirror and asking, “Do you remember our first night together when we stood in front of this mirror? Seems like an eternity ago, yeah?”

“It does,” Louis agrees. “I was a marked up mess, Hazza. Looked like I’d been attacked by a bloody vampire.”

“Well, maybe when I was slaying all of those vampires back in Holmes Chapel, one took a bite out of me, Lou,” Harry grins, referring to his joke from the night before. “Maybe you’re a vampire too, now.”

“If that’s true, we should probably draw the curtains and stay in bed for the rest of the day. I don’t much want to face the light anyway,” Louis answers, just the hint of sadness evident in his voice.

Harry crowds up behind him, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and pulling him in so that Louis’ back is flush against Harry’s chest. They sway side to side, staring at their reflection in the mirror and Harry kisses Louis’ neck, whispering in his ear, “We’re moving forward together, Louis.”

Louis’ lips turn up into a small smile and he nods, willing himself to stay positive. “We’re moving forward together.”

Harry takes his hand and leads Louis out of the en suite and the two get dressed, Harry donning the last of the fresh tupas and pants Donald left for him, Louis noticing that only a single tupa remains in his cupboard for him, as well.

 _This is really happening_.

This is really their last day in Judgment City.

Louis takes one last look around at his hotel suite as they prepare to leave his room and he can’t believe how quickly these past six days have passed by, and yet, it feels like he’s been in the Afterlife forever. He closes his eyes for a moment and says a silent prayer he can stay.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Harry says, taking his hand. “We can’t be late.” Louis nods and allows Harry to lead him through the door. They walk along the corridor and when they reach the lifts they find Margaret, Peter, and Rowan assembled, waiting for the next car. Margaret and Louis’ eyes meet and then she quickly looks over at Harry before again returning her attention to Louis, winking at him. Margaret’s warm embrace and kind words meant so much to Louis when he returned from Harry’s the previous evening, and he lets go of Harry’s hand just long enough to pull her into a quick hug, Margaret whispering, “I knew it would work out between the two of you. I’m so happy for you both, Louis,” into his ear. His smile is warm as he whispers, “Thank you, for everything, love,” to her as they pull apart.

Soon enough, the lift arrives and they all step into the car that will transport them to the lobby, Harry’s arm wrapped tightly around Louis’ waist the entire ride to the ground floor. The five of them exit the hotel as a group and head straight for the tram parked out front, climbing aboard and taking seats toward the back: Margaret and Peter sitting in front of Louis and Harry, and Rowan sitting directly across the aisle. Harry holds both of Louis’ hands in his own, his thumbs massaging Louis’ palms as they make small talk with the others on the trip to the Review Center, but for the most part the atmosphere is quiet, the enormity of what their final sessions might mean for each of them goes unspoken, but is nonetheless heavy in the air.

When the tram arrives at the Center they all disembark and stand together in a circle before going in, offering each other good luck on their final Reviews.

“This doesn’t have to be goodbye you know,” Margaret offers. “We very well might _all_ move forward and will be traveling on the train to the next realm together before the day is done.” Harry squeezes Louis’ hand at Margaret’s words and Louis immediately returns the gesture.

“I love that you’re always so positive, Margaret,” Rowan replies. “I… Well, I honestly don’t know what’s in store for me this morning, but after yesterday’s session, I think my fate is sealed.” He shrugs his shoulders, his round cheeks flushing a rosy pink. “Either way, I’m content. But if I do get sent back to Earth, I want each of you to know what a pleasure it’s been for me to experience this with all of you. I didn’t have many friends on Earth, not much family either. I had a nephew I was quite close to… but anyway, I guess I just want to say that you lot are the nicest people I could ever hope to meet.” He ducks his head and adds quietly, “It’s been my honor.”

Harry reaches over and grips Rowan’s shoulder, patting it gently, and Peter does the same on the opposite side. Louis and Margaret crowd in then, throwing their arms around the others so that the five of them are standing in an even tighter circle, their arms intertwined and their bodies huddled together like a sports team engaged in a pep cheer before they’re about to play the biggest match of their career. In a way, they are.

“This might be your best session yet, Rowan,” Peter comments, his voice kind. “None of us know what the universe has in store for us. Maybe tomorrow morning we’ll all be lined up side by side on baby cots in a nursery somewhere!”

Rowan throws his head back and laughs, the others chuckling along with him, but Louis’ throat goes dry and the best he can do is paint on a smile and nod his head. Harry slides his arm behind Louis’ back, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his temple, completely aware of Louis’ discomfort. Soon enough, it’s time to go inside and they all give each other a final hug, Margaret whispering in Louis’ ear, “Best of luck, dear boy,” as she squeezes him tight.

Rowan, Margaret, and Peter disappear as soon as they enter the Center’s main lobby, each of them having Reviews on separate floors, but Louis and Harry’s Review Rooms are right next to each other, so just as they have done every day since their first session, they walk hand in hand to the East bank of lifts together. Louis is disappointed when he doesn’t see Ed as they pass through the large main floor because he really wanted to tell him goodbye in person, but maybe if he’s lucky enough, he’ll have some time after this morning’s session to at least offer him a final wave in the lift.

As soon as they step onto the lift that will take them to the 46th floor, Louis feels the anxiety begin to creep in and he takes several deep breaths to calm his nerves. Harry grabs a hold of him and draws him into a tight embrace, the two completely indifferent to the fact that the lift car is crowded with Residents and Intakes, Harry murmuring reassurances in Louis’ ear the entire ride up. When they reach their floor, they take their regular position between their two Review Rooms and Louis doesn’t even notice that he’s trembling until Harry takes his shaking hands into his own and places them on his chest, directly over the spot where the butterfly tattoo is hidden beneath his tupa.

“We’re bonded, Louis,” Harry says, his voice firm. “Our union was tattooed on our skin in another lifetime. When you were alive, you wrote words that mattered to you on a slip of paper and you carried that paper with you for two years and when you lost it, _I_ found it, Louis. Of all the miracles in the universe, I found the words you had written, and _we found each other_ on the other side of life.” Louis swallows thickly and nods, but he doesn’t say a word. “I know you are nervous, but you’re going to go in there and no matter what your delegate throws at you, you’re going to fight for us. I believe in you, Louis. We’re moving forward together.”

“We’re moving forward together,” Louis repeats, nodding his head and adding, “I believe in us, Harry.”

Louis is still nervous, it would be a lie to say he isn’t, but Harry’s pep talk has helped. He stands up a little straighter and he looks into Harry’s eyes and when he sees how earnest Harry is; he feels a boost of confidence. “I’m not giving up. I’m going to fight for us, Hazza. I promise.”

Harry’s face splits into a wide grin and he pulls Louis into his arms, planting his lips on Louis’ and kissing him firmly. After a minute or so, Louis pulls back and breaks the kiss, but Harry doesn’t fully release him from his grasp.

“We probably should go, Haz,” Louis says, looking at his wristwatch. “We don’t have much time before our sessions start and I want to talk to Marcus first, and I know you want to talk to Sam.”

“Nope,” Harry answers succinctly, pulling Louis back in.

“Nope?” Louis repeats. “Darling, trust me when I tell you that I don’t want to go in that room at all, but I think we need to get this thing over with.”

Harry grips Louis tighter, raising Louis’ chin with the tips of fingers and then hovering his lips a breath away from Louis’ own. “I just need three minutes,” Harry says, and Louis smiles and shakes his head. “Three minutes to snog you properly and then I’ll let you go.”

“Still using that same old line, are you?” Louis teases.

“Yep,” Harry answers and raises his eyebrows suggestively. “It’s still working, isn’t it?”

“Always,” Louis answers and he reaches up and wraps his hands behind Harry’s neck, pulling Harry into his body and kissing him fervently. Louis feels the kiss throughout every inch of his person. It’s a kiss of reassurance and a kiss of hope, but most of all, it’s a kiss of love, and it sends tingling bubbles of pleasure throughout Louis’ body, making him feel buzzed all over. “Drunk in love,” he singsongs when they finally pull apart, and Harry grins and kisses him again for good measure.

They have to each go into their separate Review Rooms and just the thought causes Louis’ nerves to once again start pattering in his chest, but he pushes the negative thoughts away, reminding himself that he needs to be confident and stand up for himself more than anything else today. Nonetheless, there is something he wants to say to Harry.

“Listen Harry, we don’t know when the Justices will render our verdicts, or if we’ll get to see each other again when the session is ov –”

“Stop,” Harry interjects, his tone serious. “Even if they make their decisions while we’re sitting in our Review Rooms, we’re going to see each other again, Louis. I don’t care what the outcome is for either of us, there is no way I’m going anywhere, forward or back, without seeing your face again, do you understand me?”

Louis nods his head meekly.

“Say it for me, Louis. Say it for me and mean it,” Harry demands.

Louis draws in a deep breath. He takes Harry’s hands in his own and he looks into Harry’s eyes, his voice sure as he says, “We’re moving forward together, Harry.”

“We are,” Harry reiterates. He leans in and presses a series of kisses to Louis lips, declaring, “We are, we are, we are,” between each one. Harry pulls Louis in for one last hug and then they really do have to go.

“This is it,” Louis says.

“This is it,” Harry agrees. “I’ll see you in a couple hours, Louis. I believe in you, okay?” Louis smiles at Harry then, and his smile is genuine, because no matter how frightened or how much doubt Louis has, he knows that Harry will always believe in him.

“I believe in you too, Harry. You spend so much time building me up, that I never get to tell you how wonderful I think you are.”

Harry ducks his head shyly, stealing one last kiss.

“I love you, Lou.”

“I love you too, darling.”

Harry turns then and walks into his Review Room, waving goodbye to Louis as he shuts the door behind him. Louis lets out a heavy sigh and then steels himself for the morning ahead. He walks into his own Review Room and sees that Marcus is already sitting behind the advocate’s table, his back to Louis. Marcus doesn’t turn around or look up from the pile of papers in front of him, but Louis isn’t surprised when he immediately starts speaking.

“Well, well, well. I thought you’d never get in here. You must have spent half the morning standing outside this room snogging your boyfriend. I envy your dedication to your craft, Louis, but we do have a Review to run.”

Louis’ cheeks flush pink, but he can’t keep the laughter out of his voice when he retorts, “Very funny, Marcus. I’m guessing you’re still arguing with your wife or you wouldn’t be so jealous of my epic make-out skills.” Marcus barks a loud laugh, and once again, Louis realizes how lucky he is to have Marcus by his side and he’s so grateful. He knows Marcus knows how nervous Louis must be, and he’s also certain that Marcus is teasing him purely to ease the tension and take his mind off his upcoming session. “And Americans really shouldn’t say ‘snogging’, mate,” Louis chastises. “It sounds positively ridiculous with that twangy accent of yours.”

“Well, to be fair I haven’t been properly affiliated with any particular country for nearly three-hundred years, but duly noted,” Marcus answers with a grin.

Louis takes his seat beside Marcus and Marcus turns in his chair to face him straight on.

“Jesus Christ, Louis,” Marcus says, his voice surprised. “You look like shit.”

“Well bloody hell! Thanks a lot!” Louis exclaims, although he’s really only a tiny bit affronted.

“No, no. Don’t get upset,” Marcus replies, his voice calm and steady, which helps to ease a bit more of Louis’ tension. “I’ve never lied to you, Louis, and I can tell that you’re upset. You look exhausted and I know that you’re troubled. Tell me what happened.”

“I’m just nervous about this Review, is all,” Louis answers, and it’s true, but there is so much more to it than just that and so when Marcus raises his eyebrows to push him further, Louis knows that he has to continue talking. He looks down at the table and drums his fingers on its surface nervously before returning his attention to Marcus. “I fucked things up with Harry so badly last night, Marcus. We had this grand date planned, and I ruined everything. We’re okay now, but I made a huge mistake and we had a massive argument and I thought I’d lost him for good. It was so terrible. I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive myself for how I behaved.”

“You had your first fight,” Marcus states matter-of-factly.

“We did,” Louis answers.

“I told you it would happen, Louis. I also told you that when it did, it would be an absolutely horrific experience. I’m sure you felt like your whole world was coming to an end and I know that Harry did too. That being said, I’m not surprised you two worked it out because you’re soul mates and you’re meant to be together.”

Marcus is right. He _did_ tell Louis that all couples have arguments and disagreements, even soul mates, and that Louis should expect that things wouldn’t always be one-hundred percent perfect between him and Harry. But he also assured Louis that his and Harry’s bond is sacred and that regardless of what they might quarrel over, they’ll always come back together in the end because their love is greater than anything else.

Marcus studies Louis carefully. “Do you want to tell me more about it, Louis?” he asks. “I want you on the top of your game today and it might help if you get it off your chest.”

Louis puffs out his cheeks and blows out a slow breath. “It’s sort of embarrassing and personal,” he says.

“I would never judge you, Louis,” Marcus answers, his voice sincere. Louis nods his head in agreement, because he trusts Marcus and it might be good to vent about what happened. He’s just about to open his mouth to speak, when Rachel, Marcus’ assistant, enters the Review Room.

“Marcus, I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says, and then she looks over at Louis and nods at him quickly in greeting. He returns the gesture, but she hardly notices, her attention once again on Marcus. “We have a situation.”

“A situation?” Marcus asks.

“Well, yes. Two situations, actually,” Rachel replies, and Louis’ gut twists. “First of all, Sam just got here and she said she really needs to speak with you before the Reviews start.” Marcus looks at his watch.

“Rachel, there isn’t any time! Ileana and the Justices will be here any minute.”

“I know, I know. She had someone come by her office and she was held up, but she’s really hoping to speak to you before Mr. Tomlinson’s session starts.” Marcus pushes his chair back and starts to stand so that he can go next door and see Sam, but Rachel stops him.

“Wait, Marcus. I think you’ll want to hear the second thing before you leave this room.”

Marcus rubs his hand across his forehead and sits back down, clearly exasperated. “What’s the second thing, Rachel?” he asks.

“Ileana filed a _NP10-14_ with Mr. Tomlinson’s Review Panel this morning.”

“What?” Marcus questions, his voice practically a shout. He slams his fist on the table, startling Louis. Louis looks back and forth between Marcus and Rachel because obviously whatever this _NP10-14_ is, it’s nothing good. His stomach begins to churn and he’s suddenly grateful that he only had tea and toast for breakfast, certain that if he’d eaten anything more he wouldn’t be able to keep it down.

“What’s a _NP10-14_ , Marcus? What does this mean?” Louis asks, but he’s not sure he even wants to know the answer.

Marcus turns to Louis and his expression is serious when he responds, “It’s a form requesting that Ileana be allowed to show a clip that I haven’t previewed, Louis. It’s typically submitted when a delegate or advocate gains information that was previously unavailable, but I don’t understand how anything in your life would have been unavailable to Ileana. She’s had the video record of your time on Earth since the moment you died, so I’ve no idea what she’s playing at.” He furrows his brow, deep in thought and then his eyes go wide and he looks at Sam. “Unless she’s planning on –”

The door to the Review Room swings open and in strides Ileana. Marcus immediately jumps out of his seat and marches to the delegate’s table, intercepting Ileana before she even has a chance to set down her briefcase.

“Why did you need to file a _NP10-14_ , Ileana? Exactly what do you plan on showing Louis’ Review Panel?”

“Well. It’s very nice to see you again, too, Marcus,” Ileana replies, completely dismissing his question.

“Ileana, I’m serious. What do you intend on screening?”

“Marcus, you know we can’t discuss this until the Justices arrive.” She looks at Louis briefly and offers him a sad smile, causing his stomach to sharply clench. “Good morning, Louis,” she says quietly, quickly averting her eyes and taking her seat.

 _She can’t even look at me for more than two seconds,_ Louis thinks to himself. _What the fuck is going on?_

“Ileana, I don’t know what exactly you’ve got up your sleeve, but it better be by the books,” Marcus says, his voice positively seething with anger. Ileana’s mouth drops open in surprise and if Louis didn’t know better, he’d think that the Dragon Lady actually looks hurt.

“I have never broken a single rule during a Review and you of all people should know that Marcus! I can’t believe you would even dare imply such a thing.”

The two continue to bicker, but Louis tunes them out, his entire body now buzzing with anxiety. He just wants to get up out of his chair and walk next door to Harry’s Review Room and climb into Harry’s lap and never leave. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, willing his body to calm down.

He’s wholly unsuccessful.

“Louis,” Rachel says, interrupting his thoughts. “If those two should finish up their argument before the Justices arrive, please tell Marcus that I’ve informed Sam that he can’t meet with her until after your session.”

Louis nods in agreement, but before he can speak his mind briefly flashes on what he learned from Donald last night: that at the end of Louis’ last lifetime, Sam was _his_ advocate and he doesn’t remember a single thing about that entire experience. He doesn’t remember a single thing about _her_ , beyond what he knows in the context of Harry and Marcus and the thought of forgetting Harry in the same manner terrifies him.

_I can’t get sent back to Earth._

He pushes the thought quickly out of his head, because Rachel is going into the same room where Harry is currently seated right next to Sam, and that’s all that matters.

“You’re going next door, to Sam’s room?” Louis asks, even though she’s already said as much.

“Yes,” she replies.

“Will you tell Harry…” Louis bites his lip, unsure of what exactly he wants to tell Harry because there are so just many things he could say to him. Rachel stares at Louis expectantly and he sits up straighter in his chair, drawing back his shoulders. ”Will you tell Harry that I love him and that I’m going to fight?”

Rachel’s eyes briefly flicker in surprise and then she smiles warmly.

“Of course, I will, Mr. Tomlinson. I’d be happy to,” and with that she leaves the room, but she’s no sooner walked out than the three Justices walk in. Marcus and Ileana immediately go silent and Louis stands, Marcus walking over to the advocate’s table and taking his place by Louis’ side.

The three Justices take their places behind the bench, and once they are properly seated, Marcus, Ileana, and Louis all sit down, the Review Room eerily quiet.

Chief Justice Wen surveys the room and then she looks at Louis and smiles warmly at him. “Mr. Tomlinson, this is your final Review session. How are you feeling this morning?” she asks.

“I’m quite nervous,” he answers honestly. “But I’m ready to get started, I-I’m ready for this process to be over, I suppose.”

The Chief Justice nods her head in understanding. “A person’s life Review can be a very taxing and emotionally draining experience, Mr. Tomlinson, but you’ve held up quite well. I feel comfortable speaking for my fellow Justices when I say that it’s been our pleasure to preside over your sessions.”

Justice Kelly and Justice Elliot nod and smile in agreement.

“Thank you,” Louis replies and looks to each of them out of respect.

“As this is your final Review session, there are some things I need to go over with you before the proceedings start. Specifically, Mr. Tomlinson, I need to inform you what will happen in regards to your verdict.”

Louis does not speak. He places his hands on the top of the table, and then folds them together, trying to brace himself for what she will say next.

“Today’s session will end at twelve noon sharp,” the Chief Justice begins, “at which time, Justice Kelly, Justice Elliot, and I will retire to my chambers to begin deliberations. I can assure you we take this responsibility very seriously and we will be debating all aspects of your Review. During this time, you’ll have the afternoon free to do whatever you like. Many Intakes choose to spend Verdict Day at one of our city’s fine spas or beautiful parks, while others prefer to spend the afternoon engaged in sport or taking in a show. You can do whatever you like, really; the day is yours to enjoy.” The Chief Justice’s voice is more serious when she adds, “Our deliberations end at 5:45 sharp and your Review Session will be commencing its conclusion at 6:00 PM. You are expected to be back in this room on time, Mr. Tomlinson; the universe doesn’t tolerate tardiness when it comes to the determination of one’s fate.”

“6:00 PM,” Louis repeats softly. He doesn’t even realize he’s saying the words aloud.

 _6:00 PM_.

Louis shakes his head in utter relief. 6:00 PM means Louis will have six full hours after his morning session ends to spend with Harry. Of course, that depends on whether or not Harry is on the same schedule, but they’ve been on the same schedule up until now, so why should the timing of their verdicts be any different?

“Yes, 6:00 PM, Mr. Tomlinson,” the Chief Justice replies, and Louis looks up at her, surprised that she’d heard him speak at all.

“I’m sorry, your honor,” Louis says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“That’s quite all right,” she answers. She eyes him for a moment and then speaks, her words catching Louis’ off guard. “Do you have anything you’d like to ask me before I continue?”

“Um… well, actually, I do,” Louis, answers slowly. “Is the Verdict Day schedule the same for everyone? I mean… are all the Intakes who are having their final sessions not due back until six?”

The Chief Justice nods. “Yes, Mr. Tomlinson, that’s correct. The Verdict Day schedule is the same for every Intake.”

“Do you have anything else you’d like to ask?”

Louis shakes his head.

“No, your honor. Thank you,” he replies.

“I’ll proceed then,” the Chief Justice declares. Louis just nods his head weakly and tries to control the smile that threatens to overtake him because really all that he can think about is the fact that he and Harry will have the entire afternoon together before their verdicts are read and holy hell, they are not going to waste one second of that precious time. Louis was so frightened he wouldn’t even get to see Harry again after this session ended and now he knows that not only will they see each other, but they will have ample time to… Well, they’ll just have time.

“Mr. Tomlinson, it’s time for me to explain what will happen once your verdict is read.”

Louis sits up straight in his chair, immediately snapping back to attention.

“As you are well aware, this Review will have only one of two outcomes: you’ll either be granted advancement and move forward in the universe, or you’ll be returned to Earth to start a new life.” Louis closes his eyes and swallows thickly. He feels Marcus’ warm hand on his shoulder, Marcus giving a reassuring squeeze before pulling his hand away.

“In the case of the former,” the Chief Justice continues, “you will be ushered to The New Resident Orientation that takes place on the first floor of this Center, and during that orientation you’ll learn all about the journey ahead and your new role as a permanent member of the Afterlife. After the orientation ends, you’ll be transported to the New Resident train station and you’ll board one of our beautiful trains that will take you to the next realm, where an entire universe of possibilities awaits.”

 _God, I want to go there with Harry so fucking much_.

Louis takes a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, trying to calm his nerves while he waits for Chief Justice Wen to describe the scenario he is dreading: the second possible outcome.

“Should this Review Panel determine that you are not adequately prepared for advancement,” she continues, “you will be transported back to your hotel by a designated tram that will be parked out front of the Review Center. When you arrive at your hotel, you’ll have a final check-in with your concierge and he or she will escort you to your suite. Once you are settled in, you’ll have the option of ordering dinner, but most Returning Intakes find that they don’t have much of an appetite, as bodies begin preparing for the journey back to Earth almost immediately after the verdict has been rendered.”

“Preparing?” Louis whispers under his breath.

“Yes, Mr. Tomlinson. By ‘preparing’ I mean that your body will begin to relax. You’ll start to feel very tired, not at all uncomfortable mind you, but it won’t take much time before you feel completely exhausted. The experience is not unlike your arrival in the Afterlife.”

Louis bites his lip as tiny snippets of his arrival into this realm flicker through his mind. He has a vague memory of being pushed down a long corridor in a wheelchair, Beatrice chatting behind him with a couple of other Intake nurses. He remembers sitting on a tram and being transported to his hotel as a pretty woman in a headscarf spoke about Judgment City. He doesn’t remember a word of what she said, but he does recall feeling completely drugged, and he has a tiny memory of Donald opening the door to his hotel suite, his mind cloudy with confusion, his body longing for nothing more than sleep.

The Chief Justice continues speaking.

“Prior to going under, you might feel a bit confused, or even outright disoriented, but you’ll simply climb into bed or take a seat in a comfortable chair and go to sleep. Your soul’s transition from the person you are now to the person you will next be takes place while you are unconscious and it’s a completely stress-free experience.”

“Then I just end up a baby somewhere?” Louis asks, and he can hardly keep the mortification out of his voice.

“That’s correct. Somewhere on Earth, a mother-to-be will go into labor and if she’s the designated vessel for your next lifetime, you’ll be united with the body she carries in her womb and she’ll deliver you into this world as her newborn child. You’ll have a completely fresh start, Mr. Tomlinson, a tabula rasa, so to speak, and you’ll begin your new life on Earth with absolutely no memory of the life you lived before coming here, or of your time in Judgment City.”

“Tabula rasa,” Louis whispers. He looks down at his hands and bites the inside of his cheek hard to try to distract himself from the tears he feels beginning to well in the corner of his eyes because the very last thing he wants is to have a tabula rasa. He doesn’t want a fresh start. He doesn’t want to be a helpless newborn infant, and he doesn’t want to forget a single thing about his last life on Earth or Judgment City. Most of all, he doesn’t want to forget Harry.

He’s absolutely terrified.

As if reading Louis’ mind, the Chief Justice continues, “I know the prospect of being returned to Earth might be frightening, Mr. Tomlinson, but I can promise you that it’s a beautiful opportunity. Regardless of whether you move forward or are returned to be born again, you are in for an incredible journey.”

Louis forces himself to meet the Chief Justice’s eyes. He remembers that he needs to be strong, that he needs to fight, so slides his hands off the table and sits up straight in his chair. “Thank you, your honor,” he says, his voice clear and strong. The Chief Justice tilts her head and gives him the slightest smile and Louis suddenly has a strong intuition that she’s on his side. He doesn’t know why he’s so sure, but he thinks she understands him and he has a very real sense that she is going to argue for his advancement. He looks at Justice Elliot and then at Justice Kelly.

 _Now just to get those two on my team_ , he thinks to himself.

The Chief Justice turns her attention to Marcus.

“Mr. Diamond, I understand you’ll be presenting first this morning, is that correct?”

“Yes, your honor,” Marcus answers. “But before we begin, I’d like to address the _NP10-14_ that the delegate filed with the Review Panel this morning.”

“Ah yes, that was an unusual development,” Chief Justice Wen replies. “Do you intend on offering a formal objection to the proposed motion?”

“Absolutely, I do,” Marcus answers. He looks at Ileana and can barely contain the scowl on his face and Louis is surprised to see that she looks positively wounded by Marcus’ anger.

The Chief Justice places her hand over her microphone and leans back, conferring with her co-counsel for a moment before pulling her hand away and again speaking.

“This panel has determined that we will allow your objection to be heard, Mr. Diamond. However, we’ve unanimously agreed that it’s in the best interest of your client for you to present your final clip before we discuss the motion further. You may argue your objection before the delegate presents, but for now, your attention should be solely on your client and the clip you’ll be screening this morning.”

“Yes, your honor,” Marcus answers.

Louis is not sure if making Marcus wait to argue that the _NP10-14_ should be thrown out is a good thing or not, but he remembers that Marcus told him on the first day that the Justices are always fair, so he decides to look at their decision as a positive.

“With that settled, let’s begin this morning’s session,” the Chief Justice says, and with those words the final session of the Review of the Life of Louis William Tomlinson gets underway.

After she’s made the formal opening declaration that officially begins Louis’ Review, the Chief Justice asks Louis to take his place in the Screening Chair. Louis gets up from his seat at the advocate’s table, but before he walks over to the leather chair in the center of the room, he turns to Marcus, seeking reassurance.

“We’ve got this, Louis,” Marcus whispers, and he raises his fist. Louis draws in a deep breath and blows it out slowly and then raises a fist of his own, bumping it against Marcus’. He walks over to the Screening Chair and sits down, feeling the familiar buzz of nerves that show up whenever a screening is about to start. Marcus stands from the advocate’s table and strides confidently across the room to stand by Louis’ side.

“For this, my client’s final Review session, I’m going to present a clip that portrays fearlessness in all of its beautiful, flawed glory. Conquering obstacles rooted in fear is never easy and it’s rarely without consequences. More often than not, working through issues that hold a person back in life can cause embarrassment, pain, or even heartbreak to those one loves, and for that reason alone, many humans stay locked in their fears, unable to ever break free because others might suffer as a result. Sometimes,” he says sincerely, “fear is a very selfless emotion.” Marcus turns to Louis then, and he looks him in the eyes. “Human beings are not perfect creatures, and during his time on Earth, Louis Tomlinson was far from perfect.”

 _You’ve got that right_ , Louis thinks to himself, but he knows the words Marcus is saying are true, and honestly, some of the things Marcus has just said are quite beautiful, so he tries to relax and just listen as Marcus continues.

“The clip I’ll be screening this morning displays Louis’ ultimate act of bravery. It’s a day when he embraced the fact that living a life of truth was far more important than enduring a lifetime shackled by fear. My client knew that his act of bravery would hurt others, and the very idea of causing those he loved pain frightened him enormously. But he overcame that great fear because he also knew that in the long run, those who would be hurt by his actions would ultimately be better served by his honesty. Despite the initial hurt his own truth caused, Louis’ act of fearlessness and the example he set by his bravery enabled the woman he loved, as well as many others, to live better, more fulfilling lives.”

Marcus looks around the room and points to the screen saying, “I give you 27-1-19.”

 _Twenty-seventh year, first month, nineteenth day_.

Louis’ chair starts to rotate to face the Viewing Screen, but Louis already knows the subject of the clip Marcus will be showing because the events of that day were the most significant of his life and, oddly enough, he remembered those events not in regards to the date, but rather in terms of exactly how old he was when they occurred.

 _I was twenty-seven years and nineteen days old when I came out of the closet_.

The lights in the Review Room dim and the screen comes to life and Louis is not surprised when the scene opens with a close-up shot of his ex-wife, sitting at the marble-top table in their kitchen, leafing through the pages of a magazine.

What he is surprised by though, is how emotional the image onscreen instantly makes him.

While Louis hasn’t exactly gotten _used_ to the intense psychological and physical reactions that his screenings incite, he’s nonetheless become accustomed to them and is for the most part, prepared when they start to arise. But seeing Eleanor sitting there at that kitchen table, giddy about the news she was about to share with Louis and completely unsuspecting of the heartbreak she was about to endure, fills Louis with such guilt, shame, and regret, that it’s all he can do not to burst into tears. Louis stares at the image of Eleanor onscreen, and a flood of memories wash over him in rapid succession and he feels every one of them to the core of his being.

For weeks preceding that day, Louis had been trying to muster the courage to tell Eleanor that he was gay and that their marriage was over and during that window of time, he was also consumed with the guilt that if he would have just accepted who he was before they got married, he could have avoided causing the degree of hurt she no-doubt would suffer upon learning Louis’ truth.

After the artist dumped him, Louis never cheated on Eleanor again. But still, when he walked hand-in-hand with Eleanor into their reception hall just a few hours after they had said their “I do’s,” and Louis saw Zee standing behind the bar, looking both murderous and heartbroken as he glared at Louis, Louis knew in a place deep down that he could barely allow himself to visit, that he’d made a huge mistake in marrying his wife.

It took him three years to rectify that awful wrongdoing.

Louis’ wedding day was terrible. Well actually, the wedding itself was quite lovely; it was the heavy cast of doubt and anxiety that proliferated every fiber of Louis’ being on that day that was so horrendous.

In the morning, Louis had played a footie match with Liam and his other groomsmen, the physical exertion providing a means of letting off steam and temporarily quelling Louis’ nerves. After their match, they all checked into their hotel and drank pints and shots while they showered and got ready for the wedding, but even while he was laughing and partying with his mates, Louis felt the heavy weight of doubt on his shoulder and he knew what he was about to do was very wrong.

The alcohol helped him get through the ceremony.

Unsurprisingly, when she walked down the aisle, Eleanor looked positively beautiful, and as they said their vows, Louis couldn’t help but smile and even tear up sincerely because he did love her and they’d been building toward their nuptials for nearly half their lives. It was a momentous occasion in Louis’ life and he appreciated the enormity of it all.

But still, he wasn’t _in love_ with her, but he pushed that thought aside in favor of doing what he thought was right.

When they arrived at the reception hall and Louis saw Zee standing behind the bar along with three other tuxedo-clad barkeeps, he thought he would die on the spot. Zee looked so gorgeous and Louis just wanted to go someplace private with him and kiss him madly, and then tell him how sorry he was for being so weak. But in addition to those feelings of desire, he was utterly terrified that Zee was going to out him in front of Eleanor, their families, and all of their guests, and that thought made him so sick and distraught that he ran to the loo and vomited up the champagne, shots of vodka, and dense cheese puffs he had consumed with the wedding party during the obligatory wedding day photo shoot and on the limo ride to the reception. When he came out of the loo, he was shaking, his skin, positively green. Liam came up to him then and told Louis that he had to go console Eleanor because she was having a fit because one of the barkeeps went home sick and she was afraid they were going to be understaffed for the reception, and good God, Louis sure didn’t look so well, himself.

Zee left Louis’ reception without so much as a single word, and Louis was never so relieved in his entire life. He took Zee’s departure as a sign that marrying Eleanor had been the right decision, and he spent the next three years desperately trying to convince himself of exactly that.

That was, until the December before his twenty-seventh birthday, when Eleanor came down with the flu and couldn’t join Louis for the firm’s annual holiday party. Louis offered to stay home to help nurse her back to health, but she would hear nothing of it, arguing that Louis couldn’t afford to pass up an opportunity to rub elbows with the partners and other bigwigs at his firm.

The holiday party was held at a trendy club in Knightsbridge and the alcohol flowed freely and, after spending an appropriate time hobnobbing with his bosses, Louis started to relax and socialize with other executives and associates. After that, things started to get a bit looser, rowdier even, and after winning a challenge where he had to shotgun a pint, Louis felt positively free, his coworkers all slapping his back, half his firm cutting loose on the dance floor, the other half partying hard at the bar.

Louis headed off to the loo to have a piss and he was just zipping up his trousers and moving to wash his hands when a ridiculously good-looking junior associate named Turner walked in and immediately stood by Louis’ side at the sinks.

Turner had worked at Louis’ firm for a little over a year and Louis had a massive crush on him, although he never would admit such a thing to Turner or anyone else, least of all himself. So when Turner stood mere inches away, so close that Louis could feel the heat emanating from his body, Louis tried to ignore him and instead concentrated on rinsing the soap off his hands beneath the cold, running water.

Turner wasn’t having it.

Louis looked at Turner’s reflection in the mirror and awkwardly nodded hello, but as he turned to reach for a hand towel Turner seized the moment and moved in front of Louis, pushing him up against the sink and bracketing him in before unabashedly propositioning him.

“I think you should come home with me tonight,” Turner had said and Louis’ mouth fell open and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“Y-you’ve got the wrong idea, mate,” Louis had stuttered. “I’m happily married – not into blokes, but thanks just the same.”

“Not into blokes?” Turner snorted. “I highly doubt that.” Turner crowded in closer then, his lips dancing just a fraction away from Louis’, and Louis could barely move, completely trapped by the larger man. “I think you should kiss me.”

“I told you, I’m married,” Louis weakly repeated, although he wanted nothing more than to kiss Turner as he’d requested. Really, he wanted to do a lot more than just kiss Turner.

“Lots of people are married, Louis,” Turner had chuckled. “I’ve seen you look at me and I know that you want me. All you have to do is just say the word and you can _have_ me. As far as your wife is concerned, I can promise you that this doesn’t have to mean anything at all. I can be discreet.”

“I love my wife,” Louis answered, and he turned his head to avoid Turner’s stare because really, the temptation to give in and kiss Turner was simply too great.

Turner responded by rutting his hips forward and grinding against Louis and before Louis even knew what was happening, he had placed both hands on Turner’s shoulders and shoved him away. Hard.

“I’m fucking married!” Louis snapped, and Turner jumped back, raising his hands in the air and offering Louis a sheepish apology before then slinking out of the toilet just as fast as he’d arrived.

Louis hadn’t acted on Turner’s drunken advances, but as he splashed cold water on his face in an attempt to sober up, he allowed himself to accept the fact that he desperately wanted to. Turner was incredibly fit: with brown skin, a muscular build, and blazing hazel eyes, and Louis was extremely attracted to him. He pulled a hand towel from the dispenser and wiped his face dry and as he did so, he experienced a moment of clarity where he acknowledged that if Turner hadn’t so quickly backed down when Louis stood his ground, Louis probably _would_ have gone home with him, and it was only a matter of time before a man would come along whom Louis would be unable to resist, and who might not give up so easily as Turner had. Acknowledging this fact was an absolutely horrible feeling, but Louis was positively certain that if he stayed in his heterosexual marriage to Eleanor, eventually, he would cheat.

He gripped the sink basin with both hands and stared at his reflection in the mirror and for the first time in his life he said the words he’d avoided since he was a prepubescent child just starting to barely grasp the complexities of sexuality. He didn’t even have to take a deep breath or brace himself, he just said it, because the words were both obvious and true and Louis knew he had to hear them aloud, spoken in his own voice.

“I’m gay.”

Considering how he ignored his own sexuality throughout the course of his lifetime, Louis would have thought that such a revelation would shake him to his core, would cause his world to crumble around him, or would affect him in an opposite manner and have him shouting on high while a band of rainbow-wearing buglers sounded their horns in triumph. But instead, all Louis felt at the proclamation was a tiny sigh of relief followed by a sudden burst of anxiety about how he was going to break the news to all of the people that mattered in his life. Most of all, what was he going to do about Eleanor?

In the weeks that followed, Louis tried to come up with the perfect way to tell his wife that they could no longer be married, his goal being to do so without actually hurting her feelings. Obviously, such a scenario was an impossibility; Louis had been with Eleanor since he was twelve years old and the prospect of causing her pain was terrifying, but Louis knew deep down that it was inevitable. Still, no matter how many times he tried to broach the subject, he always chickened out and ended up talking about the weather or complimenting El on her new handbag, or bringing up some other innocuous subject, silently berating himself for lacking the courage to come out to his wife and spare her another minute married to a man who could never love her in the way she deserved.

To make matters worse, Eleanor had begun talking to Louis in earnest about starting a family, and the thing was, Louis desperately wanted to be a father. He always loved children; he practically helped raise his younger siblings and he adored and lavished endless love upon them, not to mention the fact that once he had become financially secure, there wasn’t a thing that any one of them would ask for that he wouldn’t immediately try to provide. In spite of his misgivings about his marriage, Louis knew that he was both emotionally and financially prepared for all aspects of fatherhood.

But having a baby with Eleanor?

Well, having a baby was huge, and after that night in the loo with Turner at his firm’s holiday party, Louis came to the realization that although he wanted children, he didn’t want to have them with his wife.

That discovery was one of the worst moments of Louis’ life.

And now, Louis sits in the Screening Chair and waits to watch that fateful moment when everything he and Eleanor had built together unraveled, both of them completely unaware that their deepest pain would be shared with a panel of strangers upon Louis’ death.

The day presented onscreen was a winter day like any other. It was a Saturday afternoon and Louis had just returned home from a weekly match with his indoor footie league. Louis always preferred to play outdoors, but during the winter months he played for an indoor arena league with Liam and a handful of other teammates, the goal being to stay in shape and at the top of their game for the spring and fall seasons.

Louis clutches the armrests of the Screening Chair as the younger version of himself enters the scene and approaches his wife. He’s freshly showered and dressed in a soft grey jumper and black skinnies, having left his overcoat in the small mudroom that bridged their home’s garage and kitchen. The Louis onscreen carries a rucksack containing his footie kit over his shoulder. Eleanor looks up from her magazine and gives Louis a wide smile and Louis leans over and kisses her on the cheek, offering her a breezy “Hello, El,” before dropping his bag on the floor and grabbing for a kettle to start a pot of tea.

“I’ve got a surprise for you!” Eleanor says immediately, her voice bursting with excitement. Louis sets the kettle back down on the countertop and turns around and looks at her curiously.

“Oh yeah? What’s that, El?” Louis asks.

From his seat, Louis feels his muscles tense all over because it’s just at that moment that the Louis onscreen spots the magazine Eleanor is reading and he experiences the exact conflicted feelings of utter panic and complete joy that his living self had in that moment.

Eleanor doesn’t say a word, she just holds up the magazine in her hands and shows it to Louis, the title _Mother & Baby_ embossed across its cover, the image of a pretty young mum cuddling an adorable, curly-headed infant staring back at him.

“Eleanor,” Louis mutters, shaking his head, his eyes wide. His face looks both terrified and excited and the Louis in the Screening Chair remembers that in that moment he felt completely conflicted by two, highly contradictory emotions. On the one hand, he was going to be a father and it was a dream come true, his mind immediately racing with images of himself changing nappies, singing his child off to sleep with sweet lullabies, and teaching a toddler son or daughter how to play footie. On the other hand, having a baby with Eleanor meant that he was going to have to _stay_ with Eleanor for many years to come. He would never be so cruel as to leave Eleanor if she was pregnant, and he also wouldn’t dare end his marriage and risk not having total access to his child. Eleanor being pregnant essentially meant that Louis was going to forget about coming out to his wife and that he would spend the rest of his years in the closet, at least until his child was fully grown and an established adult. Tears immediately spring to Louis’ eyes, the same thing occurring to his younger-self who is standing in front of his wife onscreen

“You’re pregnant, El?” the Louis onscreen asks. “I-I can’t believe it. We’re going to have a baby?”

“Oh, Louis! No!” Eleanor exclaims. She scrunches her shoulders and throws her hand over her mouth, obviously embarrassed. “I suppose I didn’t handle this properly.” She drops the magazine on the table and gets out of her seat rushing over to Louis and drawing him into a hug. “You’ve got this all wrong, you silly goose!” and it’s obvious she’s only partly joking when she quietly adds, “I don’t think we’ve had enough sex in the past year to make a tadpole, _much less_ a baby.” Louis takes a step back, creating a small distance between them and then Eleanor looks at Louis and smiles tentatively. “Louis, I’m not pregnant, but I am _ovulating_. Which means that it’s the perfect time to try for a baby and I think we should go upstairs right now and get started.”

“You’re ovulating?” Louis repeats, completely shell-shocked.

As he watches his younger-self onscreen, Louis feels like someone has pulled the stopper out of a tub filled with water that he was drowning in, and the conflict and panic of the moment is quickly suctioned down the drain and disappears, leaving nothing but shallow breaths and confusion in its wake. It’s exactly how he felt in that moment standing in his kitchen with his wife, so long ago.

“Yes! Ovulating! I’m ready to start our family, Louis. It’s time,” Eleanor enthuses, and Louis just looks at her and by his expression it’s obvious that he cannot even believe what he’s saying when he blurts the words out, quietly but sure, without so much as giving them a second thought:

“Eleanor, I’m gay.”

Everything goes quiet.

At first Eleanor just stares at him, the room completely silent, tension obvious in the air, both of them frozen in place. But then, Louis’ eyes go wide as the realization of what he’s just said really sets in, and Eleanor’s lips part fractionally and she pinches her eyebrows together, studying Louis closely. Louis clears his throat as if getting ready to speak, but then Eleanor’s mouth splits into a strange, angry grin and she starts giggling.

The Louis watching the interaction onscreen remembers that it was the most awkward, painful, and heartbreaking moment of his life, and the sound Eleanor made in that moment was excruciating to his ears.

“You’re gay?” Eleanor questions, her voice shrill.

She takes in a heavy, shuddering breath and dissolves fully then, her shrieking laughter sending a cold chill down Louis’ spine. “Very funny, Louis,” she cries, throwing her head back and laughing hysterically. The sound is like nails dragging across a chalkboard: screeching and sharp, harsh and cold, manic and wholly unnatural.

Suddenly, Eleanor’s expression turns serious and her face hardens, her laughter instantly dying in her throat. “Actually, that’s not very funny,” she bites. “It’s not very funny, at all. You shouldn’t make jokes like that, Louis, especially when we’re going to have a baby.”

“El, I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks, but it never seemed the right time and I guess… well, I guess I haven’t been able to muster up the courage, to be honest. But I’m not joking,” Louis says, his voice sure. “I’m gay.”

Eleanor stares at Louis, an ever-changing display of emotions passing over her face. She manages to look simultaneously confused, agitated, furious, and grief-stricken, all in a manner of seconds. The Louis sitting in the Screening Chair just wants to hug her, wants to tell her how sorry he is and how much he regrets the way he dropped such a massive bomb on her when she was least expecting it. The Louis onscreen begins speaking, his words coming out fast and nervous, and the Louis watching remembers that he had tried to say everything as quickly as possible, because he knew that at any moment Eleanor was going to shut him down and throw him out, and that after that, she would probably never speak to him again.

“I’m so sorry, El. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. You deserve so much better than this and I’m so ashamed to hurt you. I promise that hurting you is the very last thing I ever wanted. I just… I just can’t live this lie any longer… and I absolutely _cannot_ have a baby with you, Eleanor. It just wouldn’t be fair to you, or to me –”

“Shut up, Louis!” Eleanor angrily shouts.

At first, Louis is taken aback, because rarely had Eleanor so blatantly displayed her emotions, much less raised her voice. Louis goes to reach for her, to pull her into a hug, but she pushes him forcefully away.

“El, please,” Louis begs.

“Don’t you touch me! Don’t you dare touch me!” she exclaims. “How could you do this to me? We’re married, for Christ’s sake! I don’t believe you, Louis. I don’t believe you at all!” and with those words, she bursts into tears. Louis starts to extend his hand to comfort her and she smacks it away.

“I know you don’t want to believe me, but I’m not lying, Eleanor. I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s true. We never should have married. I was so wrong to do this to you, but I can’t keep up this charade any longer. We need to get divorced, El. We both deserve better.”

Eleanor snaps her head up, her face full of fury.

“Fuck you, Louis,” she seethes. “You’re already telling me you deserve better than me? What kind of monster are you?”

“No! No! I swear, I didn’t mean it like that!” Louis reasons, holding up his hands. “What I meant was that you deserve to be with someone who can love you properly and I’m not that person. I’ve tried, I swear, I’ve tried. But I can’t help this attraction I have for other men and I can’t deny it any longer, and it’s not going to do either of us any good if I do.” His voice is soft and earnest and he moves in closer, saying, “You’re so wonderful and you’re such a good person and I hate hurting you. I hate it so much, Eleanor, you have to know that this is killing me. But El, I know if I stay… I might… I think I might betray you, Eleanor, and that would be so terrible and I won’t ever do that to you again.”

The Louis onscreen and his counterpart in the Screening Chair are both panting heavily now, and the Louis watching the clip senses the precise moment his onscreen counterpart realizes exactly _what_ he’s just said and when Eleanor responds, he feels awash in panic.

“Again?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at Louis. “What do you mean by ‘again’, Louis?”

“Um… I… Eleanor…” The Louis onscreen stands there helplessly, knowing there is no way he can re-seal the can of worms he’d just opened, but still trying to figure out a way how to do exactly that.

“Answer me, Louis!” Eleanor shouts and the Louis in the Screening Chair remembers that in that moment he knew he was going to break her heart, that he’d betrayed every trust she’d lovingly given to him over the years, but he had to tell her the truth. The Louis onscreen looks down at the floor and takes a deep breath and then he finally meets her eyes.

“Before we got married, El…I-I had an affair.”

“You had an affair?” Eleanor questions, her affect surprisingly calm.

“Y-yes – and I’m so fucking sorry, Eleanor! You have to know how sorry I am! But I had an affair, El… and…and it was with a man.”

Eleanor stares at Louis unblinking. She purses her lips and narrows her eyes. Her arms are rigid by her side and she stretches her fingers and then clenches them into tight fists before finally speaking.

“It was that fucking artist, wasn’t it?” Eleanor asks, her voice eerily cold and detached. Louis’ eyebrows shoot up to his forehead.

“Wha – how did you know?”

“You think I’m some silly, unobservant girl who only cares about status and material things, don’t you, Louis?”

“Eleanor, no! I would never think that about you, I swear!”

“When we first met him at the reception hall, I saw the way he looked at you, and I saw the way you looked at him. Do you think I didn’t smell the cigarettes and turpentine on your clothing when you came home late all those ‘lad’ nights? You smelled like a fucking man, Louis! It made me sick to my stomach.”

Louis watches as the version of himself fish-mouths in shock. He stands in the kitchen and he and Eleanor just stare at each other and it’s terrible, but the Louis watching knows the Louis onscreen is not going to keep his mouth shut and he’s just going to piss off his wife even more and that things are about to get a whole lot worse.

“If you fucking knew that I was cheating on you, Eleanor, why the hell didn’t you say anything? You could have spared us both a lot of heartache!”

Eleanor recoils in shock and then her face turns red in steely rage. She raises her hand and then she does it; she slaps Louis hard across the face, the sound of her palm meeting his skin a loud clapping noise that reverberates in the air and seems to bounce off the walls. The Louis in the Screening Chair rubs his cheek, immediately feeling the sting of the harsh contact. The Louis onscreen doesn’t move; he just stands there with his mouth hanging open, a bright pink handprint slowly appearing on the side of his face as tears of desperation begin to stream from his eyes.

“Don’t you dare blame me, Louis! The only thing I’ve ever done wrong was to love you! The only mistake I ever made was trusting you and believing that you loved me back!” Her voice drops then as she starts to cry harder, her words coming out choked and broken. “We’ve been together practically my whole life. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved. I thought you were just experimenting. Y-you married me, Louis! How can you be gay if you married me?”

“I’m so sorry, Eleanor,” Louis answers, his voice hushed. He reaches out to her but she steps away from his reach.

“You have ten minutes,” Eleanor says, her tear-soaked voice icy.

“What?” Louis replies, at first confused, but then understanding dawns on his face.

“You have ten minutes, Louis. Gather as many of your things as you can and then get out of this house.”

“Eleanor, I –”

“Don’t make me tell you again.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest and her voice is firm when she adds, “Make sure to pack a couple of your suits because you _will_ be at work Monday morning. You’re not going to fuck up your job the way you’ve fucked up my life. You’re going to pay for this, Louis. I’ll agree to a divorce, but I promise you, it won’t be cheap.”

“I’ll give you anything you want, El,” Louis agrees, his voice sincere. “You can have the house, the money, everything.” He swallows and draws in a heavy breath. “That’s the least I can do.”

“Nine minutes,” she says and then she walks over to the kitchen table and picks up the magazine she was reading when Louis came in and throws it across the room.

The screen fades to black. The Review Room is completely quiet and Louis feels like he’s just stepped off a rollercoaster, like if he stood up, he would have trouble finding his center of gravity and might fall over. His heart is pounding in his chest and he’s completely consumed by conflicting feelings of heartbreak and relief. He draws in a deep breath, but before he can even exhale, the screen once again comes to life.

The image is of a familiar Jeep Cherokee, screeching into an open parking space in front of a modern brick building in Central Holborn. The Louis onscreen jumps out of the driver’s side of the vehicle and slams his door shut and when he notices that his car is parked practically sideways and the front end is extending well into the street, he just shakes his head and runs to the entranceway of the building without even making an attempt to straighten it out.

The shot zooms in then to Louis’ index finger repeatedly jabbing the buzzer for flat _2-C_ and then finally, a familiar and friendly voice can be heard through the buzzer’s speakers.

“I’m here, I’m here! Tell me who you are, and if I know you or like you, I might buzz you in.”

Louis in the Screening Chair feels a rush of love at hearing his best mate’s voice and he closes his eyes for just a moment.

 _Liam_.

“Payno! Don’t be such a prick! I need to speak with you right now. Buzz me the fuck up!” Louis shouts, his voice frantic.

“Shit, Lou. Of course,” comes Liam’s immediate response.

There is a loud buzzing sound as Liam remotely unlocks the main entrance to his flat and then the camera follows Louis from behind as he opens the door and then runs across the small foyer, taking the flight of stairs two steps at a time and then, upon reaching the top floor, racing down the hallway and stopping in front of the door that leads to Liam’s flat, the entire trip completed in mere seconds. Liam opens the door to invite him in before Louis’ even has a chance to knock.

Louis steps into the small entranceway of Liam’s flat, his breathing heavy as he grabs Liam by the shoulders. He doesn’t even bother to look around, just stares Liam in the eyes, as he tries to calm down enough to speak.

“Jesus, Louis,” Liam says, his voice concerned. “What’s gotten into you, mate? Is everything okay?” Liam scrunches his eyebrows then and peers at Louis closely. “What happened to your face, Lou?” and the Louis onscreen raises his hand and rubs his inflamed and slightly bruised cheek, but doesn’t answer, he just continues breathing hard as tears well in his eyes and begin to fall. Liam’s eyes go wide then and he sounds completely terrified when he asks, “Was somebody hurt? Dear god, is your mum okay? Your sisters and your brother? Shit, Louis, did something happen to El?”

Louis draws in a shuddering breath and finally finds the words to speak, his sentences broken and choppy. “We’re getting divorced, Liam. Eleanor threw me out. We’re getting divorced.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” Liam replies, his voice full of shock. “You can’t get divorced! Shit, Louis! The two of you have been together forever!”

“I know, Li,” Louis answers, and he actually cackles a weird, high-pitched laugh, the Louis in the Screening Chair feeling a tidal wave of excitement washing over him because he’s gets to speak his truth out loud. “But I’m gay.”

Liam’s mouth falls open and he raises his eyebrows cartoonishly.

“What?” he asks and suddenly Louis watching from the chair feels a jolt of panic, and the smile immediately falls off the face of his counterpart onscreen.

“Liam, you’re my best mate. Please! I’m begging you; please still be my friend,” the Louis onscreen pleads, his voice frantic. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I-I just… I couldn’t even accept it for the longest time, you know? But I _am_ gay and Eleanor and I _are_ getting a divorce and it’s the right thing to do and I had to stop by and tell you. I… I hope this doesn’t change anything because you’ve been my best mate forever and I wanted you to know. But I have to go because I have another stop to make and then I’m driving to Doncaster because I really need to tell me mum,” Louis rushes out without even taking a breath, his Donny accent suddenly thick.

He’s barely finished his sentence before Liam is nodding and then smiling at him softly and grabbing Louis’ face in his big, teddy bear hands.

“Louis, it’s okay. Calm down. I’m happy for you, Tommo,” Liam enthuses. “I mean; I’m so sorry about you and Eleanor, obviously. But… well… you’re really brave, and I want you to know that you’re my best mate and nothing will ever change that.”

Once again, the Louis in the Screening Chair is overwhelmed with emotions. He feels so much love that he wants to cry, and that, combined with the intense feeling of relief, is indescribable.

Liam pulls the Louis onscreen into a tight embrace and turns him slightly as they hug, and then the shot pans in, closing in on their bodies and then zooming up Louis’ back to display his point of view as he looks over Liam’s shoulder and into the living room, which is now fully within Louis’ field of vision. The Louis in the Screening Chair can’t help but draw in a breath, even though he knew what was coming, because there, sitting in Liam’s living room, are half the men who played on Louis’ footie team, open boxes of pizza and bottles of beer cluttering the entire space.

“Oh shit,” Louis mutters and he pulls back from Liam, his eyes panicked.

“Fuck, Louis,” Liam whispers, when he suddenly remembers that the two of them are not alone. “Um… Some of the lads came over after our match to watch movies,” Liam offers.

“You didn’t fucking invite me?” Louis questions, momentarily offended.

“You’d already left the arena, Lou!” Liam explains, and then he furrows his brow, studying Louis’ face before throwing back his head and laughing uproariously. “That’s what you’re fucking worried about right now? That I didn’t invite you to drink beer and eat pizza?”

“Fucking hell,” Louis answers, shaking his head, little giggling laughs escaping his throat. The moment is so absurd, and suddenly, Louis finds it positively hilarious. The Louis watching from the Screening Chair finds it the same, and begins chuckling along with the younger, living version of himself onscreen, until both versions of Louis are laughing wholeheartedly.

Louis steps aside from Liam then and waves to his teammates: every last one of them staring at him like he has corncobs growing out of his ears.

“Hello lads!” Louis offers in greeting. “I guess you all heard that, so… yeah… Um… I’m gay. Just stopped by to tell Liam, but I suppose I just killed two birds with one stone. I hope you’ll all still treat me the same, but I’ve got to go now… People to see, some more coming out to do… so…yeah. Right,” he concludes, nodding his head, his voice tapering off towards the end.

John, Louis’ teammate from The Red Harts who had quit the team in protest with Louis and Liam when their fellow teammates wouldn’t let Louis’ friend Chloe join their ranks, stands and walks over to them, slapping Louis on the back. “Good on you, mate,” he says. “I’m happy for you. Best of luck!”

The Louis watching remembers being so grateful in that moment that he wanted to pull John into a massive hug, but the Louis onscreen refrains and pats him on the shoulder, thanking him sincerely instead. A couple more of Louis’ teammates come over and congratulate Louis, and he tells them how appreciative he is of their support, but just like the version of himself did when standing in the middle of Liam’s entranceway those years ago, the Louis in the Screening Chair can’t help but eye the three teammates still seated in Liam’s living room who don’t get up and don’t so much as look in Louis’ direction. Louis feels a brief pang of sadness as he remembers that those three men, good friends that he’d played footie with for years, barely spoke to him after that day.

The screen once again fades to black and when it comes back to life a few seconds later, the shot is of Louis’ standing in front of a steel door in a trendy loft in Soho.

 _Oh, good god, no_ , Louis thinks to himself and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

It was bad enough that a sizable portion of his Review yesterday was dedicated to the artist, and now, here he is in the exact same place where yesterday’s clip was shot, and Louis cannot believe that once again his ill-fated love affair is going to be thrown out into the open for his entire Review Panel including Marcus and Ileana to see. It’s so fucking humiliating and this episode in particular was the icing on the cake.

The Louis onscreen stands outside the steel door, running his fingers through his fringe and paces back and forth as he comes to terms with what he’s about to do. The Louis watching this action unfold before him wishes that his living-self had just walked away in that moment because he had no idea what kind of humiliation he was in store for when he went to Zee’s flat to make amends.

Louis’ shoulders tighten and his heart rate picks up as he watches as his younger self finally goes through with it and knocks on the door in front of him.

Nothing happens.

 _Please. Fucking go_ , Louis in the Screening Chair thinks to himself, but he knows that he was determined in that moment and that he wasn’t about to go anywhere.

Louis once again knocks on the door, this time his fists pounding a bit harder. He steps back, waiting for the artist to answer, and when, after a long beat he doesn’t, Louis paces back and forth a few times before turning toward the landing and taking the first few steps toward the stairwell.

But then, the door to the artist’s flat swings open: the noise loud and resonating in the quiet hallway.

 _Shit_.

The Louis onscreen momentarily freezes, and then slowly turns around, cautiously climbing back up the three steps to the top of the landing.

“Zee,” Louis gasps, as if he wasn’t expecting to see him. The artist is dressed only in boxer briefs, and he pulls his arms through a tattered _Radiohead_ t-shirt as he steps past the entranceway that bridges his flat and the tiny landing, pulling his door closed behind him.

“Louis?” the artist gasps, obviously shocked. “What… Jesus Christ, Louis, what the fuck are you doing here?”

The Louis onscreen takes a few, careful steps forward.

“Zee,” he repeats. “I-I’m so sorry to bother you… can you talk for a minute?”

The artist studies Louis carefully and Louis just stands there and waits, his counterpart sitting in the Screening Chair feeling nervous energy buzzing through his entire body.

“I won’t take up much of your time,” Louis adds, taking a few more slow steps forward until he is stood in front of the artist, just an arms length away. “I just… well, I just need to tell you something, if that’s alright?”

“I can’t believe you’re fucking here,” the artist mutters. He pulls a cigarette from behind his ear and lights it, drawing in a long drag and then exhaling a cloud of smoke in Louis’ face. “Get on with it, then,” he says, tilting his chin up, his voice cold and detached.

“I… I just want to tell you how sorry I am.”

The artist raises an eyebrow and takes another draw of his cigarette, his eyes burning into Louis’.

“You want to tell me you’re sorry?” he asks.

“I do… I treated you so unfairly when we were together, Zee, and I just want to apologize.”

The artist stares Louis up and down, and then, as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he looks at the ceiling and blows out a heavy breath, a whirling cloud of smoke hovering over their heads and then dissipating.

“Zee,” Louis continues, his voice shaky and uncertain. “I just... I’m so fucking sorry for how I acted toward you.” He clears his throat and then stands tall and sure, looking the artist in the eyes when he declares, “I loved you, Zee. I never told you, but I loved you so much and it was so wrong of me to withhold that love from you. I’m deeply ashamed of how I acted. You never held back in telling me that you loved me, and you deserved to hear that I loved you in return.”

The artist stares at Louis for a long moment, and then tilts his head upward and to the side, avoiding eye contact. He blinks a few times and Louis in the Screening Chair sees what he missed when the event actually occurred: that the artist’s eyes are wet, his brows furrowed in sadness, and that he swallows heavily before his expression goes completely blank and unreadable and only then does he return his attention to Louis. When he faces Louis once again, the artist practically looks right through him, as if Louis is a complete stranger, or more so, that he doesn’t exist at all.

“What do you want from me, Louis?” he asks, his tone sharp and biting. “Been a while for you, eh? Craving to have that arse fucked again, are you? I’m not taking you back, if that’s why you’re here.”

“What? Zee! No!” Louis answers. “I just wanted to apologize, is all. This afternoon… this afternoon I… I… well, fucking hell, I came out to Eleanor today, Zee. I told my best mate and half the lads from my footie team as well, and when I leave here, I’m going to drive to Donny to tell my mum.” Louis stands quietly for a minute before adding. “I just wanted you to hear it from me one time. I wanted you to hear me say the words aloud because I could never say them to you and it’s the least I can do.” He draws in a deep breath, looks the artist squarely in the eyes and says, “I’m gay.” He lets out a heavy sigh then and runs his fingers through his fringe, pushing it out of his eyes. “I suppose I always knew, but was just too afraid to admit it. But I’m admitting it now and I just wanted you to hear those words from me.”

“Your wife threw you out, didn’t she?” the artist asks and at first, Louis looks surprised that the artist figured it out so quickly, but then he nods his head slowly in response.

The artist raises his hand then, bringing his palm up to Louis’ cheek, which is still bright pink and swollen from where Eleanor had violently slapped him earlier. His fingertips graze the sore, puffy skin tenderly and Louis starts to raise his own hand to place it over the artists’ when the artist draws his hand back, administering a slap of his own.

The artist doesn’t strike Louis very hard. In fact, if they had been joking around, the slap would have been more playful than anything else. But given their history and the context, not to mention the fact that Louis’ skin was already sore and raw, the slap hurt, and that hurt was significantly more than just physical.

Louis recoils, rubbing his cheek and staring at the artist like a wounded animal.

“Why… what…” is all that Louis manages to mumble before the artist cuts him off.

“Do you want some sort of prize for finally accepting that you’re a faggot, Louis?” the artist asks, his tone short and razor sharp. “Because if you do, you’ve come to the wrong place. I don’t want your fucking apologies; I want the six months of my life back that I wasted on your closeted arse. I loved you, Louis. We could have built something good together, but you were too chicken shit to accept anything more from me than a weekly ride on my dick. So you can just fuck the hell right off and never come back here again, do you understand me?”

Louis opens his mouth to speak, to protest or to offer another apology, the Louis watching in the Screening Chair not quite remembering exactly what he was going to say in that moment because the memory of that interaction was so horrible that he mostly blotted it from his mind.

Just then, the door to the artist’s flat swings open from the inside and a man wearing only a bath towel that he secures about his waist with one hand takes a step out into the hallway, standing next to the artist. The man is short and lean, with sinewy, yet well-defined muscles. He has bright blue eyes and brown hair styled in a long fringe. The Louis in the Screening Chair draws in a gasp, because he was too overcome when the moment originally occurred to realize how much the man looked like Louis.

“Who is this?” the man asks, eyeing Louis suspiciously. He places his free hand on the artist’s shoulder possessively, and the artist then wraps his hand around the man’s waist, drawing him in close, his eyes never leaving Louis’ as he leans in and licks a stripe up the man’s neck.

“He’s nobody, love,” the artist answers. “He’s a big, fucking nobody, and he’s leaving right now on his own or I’m going to physically remove him myself.”

The Louis onscreen just stands there, unable to move.

The artist reaches over then and pulls the end of the towel free from the man’s hand, throwing it over his own shoulder, his companion now totally naked and completely exposed. The man smirks at Louis in triumph, utterly shameless in his nudity as he pulls the artist’s hand up to his lips and kisses his knuckles. Louis in the Screening Chair feels the same twinge of jealousy his living self felt in that moment, both at the man’s utter confidence, and for the way that he proudly claimed something that Louis once had and lost.

The jealousy passes and once again Louis is filled with embarrassment and remorse.

The artist and the man then turn to walk back into the artist’s flat, the artist grabbing the man’s bum and squeezing for Louis to see. As he steps inside, the artist turns and faces Louis again.

“I hope your life is long and miserable, Louis,” he says, and then he slams the door shut in Louis’ face.

 _Jesus Christ, he was such a prick_ , the Louis in the Screening Chair marvels to himself, and he feels a flash of anger that doesn’t blend well with the shame, mortification, and sadness he’s already experiencing.

The screen fades to black, but is only dark for a second or two before once again coming to life. This time, it’s another shot of Louis’ Jeep pulling to a sudden stop, but in this portion of the clip, the Jeep is parking directly in front of Louis’ childhood home.

Louis immediately feels a surge of nostalgia and sadness as he stares at the home that he loved so much: a home he will never step foot in again.

The scene takes place at dusk and the sky is a beautiful mixture of purples and deep blues, the sun a dark orange semicircle disappearing into the horizon, the moon already climbing over the cityscape in the distance.

The camera pans in on the two-story brick house and Louis in the Screening Chair feels consumed with longing, the desire to walk through the bright white front door of the home he knows so well so great that he places his hand over his mouth to stifle an audible cry.

 _My mum is in that house_ , Louis thinks to himself. _My sisters. My brother_.

Louis sits and looks at the image of that simple, two-story structure and he thinks of playing footie with his siblings in the backyard, of helping his mum tend to her flower garden, of running alongside the younger set of twins in the driveway after he’d taken the training wheels off their bikes and taught them to properly ride with two wheels. He remembers teaching Lottie and Fizzy to drive the family car and how they spent hours coasting up and down the quiet streets of their neighborhood, Louis completely unwilling to allow them to venture onto the busier roadways of Doncaster. His mind flashes on a memory of sneaking cigarettes with Liam behind his mother’s garden shed when they were barely teenagers, both gagging and coughing but too stubborn to admit they had no idea what they were doing. Louis remembers jumping in crunchy autumn leaves in the backyard, cold winter days building lopsided snowmen with his younger sisters in the front, and hot summer nights spent letting off firecrackers in the street with his mates.

_I miss all of it._

Louis doesn’t get to reflect too long on the memories of the years spent in that comfortable brick structure though, because just then, the camera zooms in to a close-up shot of his younger-self jumping out of his car and running to the front door, his mum opening it and ushering him inside just as he’s reaching out his hand to knock.

“Louis,” his mum, Jay, says softly, pulling him in to her embrace.

“Mum,” Louis onscreen answers, his voice cracking. The camera zooms in as he hugs her tightly, burrowing his face against her shoulder, his eyes shiny with moisture. The Louis in the Screening Chair feels the warmth of his mother’s touch throughout his body, can smell the lilac perfume she always wore, but best of all; he feels completely content as the hug taking place onscreen envelops his own body in comfort and love.

Louis’ mum pulls back and looks at him. “I’ve got a kettle on, love,” she says, her voice full of understanding. “You go have a seat and I’ll bring us some tea. I’ll make it just how you like.” She squeezes Louis tightly and then breaks the hug, heading toward the kitchen as Louis looks around and surveys his surroundings, his expression confused.

He walks into the living room, practically falling onto the sofa, exhaustion evident on his tear-stained and swollen face, when he again speaks.

“Mum,” Louis calls out, just as his mother walks back into the room. She sets a tray loaded with biscuits, a tea pot and two China tea cups and saucers on the coffee table, picking up a small pitcher of cream and pouring a splash into one of the cups before filling it the rest of the way with steaming tea and then handing it to Louis. He blows a long breath of air over the hot liquid and then takes a slow sip and then sets his cup and saucer back on the table. “Mum, where is everybody?” he asks.

Louis watching the scene from the Screening Chair remembers that in that moment it struck him that the house was strangely quiet. Considering he was one of seven children, and that at the time, five of those children still lived in that home, the lack of noise and chaos was highly unusual. In fact, aside from that particular day, Louis doesn’t remember a single time being in that house when there wasn’t music blasting from one of his sister’s speakers, loud squabbles over “borrowed” clothing playing out in upstairs bedrooms, or in the very least, several conversations going on at once.

“Dan is out of town this week on business, and Lottie came over a couple of hours ago and picked up all the kids for a slumber party at her flat.”

“Lottie picked up all the kids?” Louis repeats. “It’s Saturday night, she should be out with her friends. Why would she do that?”

“Louis,” Jay answers, her voice calm. She sets down her teacup and takes Louis’ hands into her own. “Eleanor called me and – ”

“What?” Louis says, his voice loud in the quiet of the room. The Louis in the Screening Chair feels an instant jolt of panic, just as his younger-self onscreen did in that moment. “When did she call you, mum? What the hell did she say?”

Jay looks Louis in the eyes and then ever so tenderly cups his swollen, red cheek in her hand. “She called a couple of hours ago, Louis, she said that –”

“She called a couple of hours ago?” Louis parrots. “I fucking can’t believe it.” He jumps up from the sofa and briefly cradles his face in his hands before he begins pacing in front of the coffee table, his voice agitated as he continues speaking, mumbling to himself, almost as much as he is to his mother. “How dare she call you? I swear, the fucking nerve. I mean, I understand that she’s hurt and angry… Hell, she has every right to be… But to call you, mum, that’s simply unacceptable.”

Louis looks at Jay then and she stands up, walking around the coffee table and extending her arms to Louis. “Louis. Darling, it’s okay. She told me –”

“She fucking told you?” Louis barks, his voice a shocked scream as the words rush out of his mouth at lightening speed. “She had no right to take that from me! I wanted to tell you myself, mum! Coming out is a big deal. I can’t believe she could be so cruel!”

Jay’s eyes momentarily widen, but she immediately schools her expression. “Louis – ”

“No! I mean it, mum!” Louis continues. “I don’t care how pissed off she was with me, she should have let me tell you I’m gay myself. I can’t believe she stole that moment from me!” Louis stops in his tracks and then chokes out a loud sob. He pinches the bridge of his nose and doubles over, a waterfall of tears streaming across his cheeks and dripping onto the carpeting as he draws in sharp, choked breaths, his body wracked and shaking. “I wanted to tell you myself, mum. I wanted you to hear those words from me.”

Jay slowly pulls Louis upright and draws him into her arms, hugging him close and telling him how much she loves him and that everything is going to be okay. They stand there in the middle of the living room for several minutes, Louis wrapped in his mother’s love until he starts to calm down a bit, his breathing evening out. Finally, he steps back from his mum and Jay grabs a cloth napkin off the tea tray and gently wipes away his tears. She takes his hands and leads him to the couch and the two sit down, Louis immediately collapsing into his mum’s warm embrace, the room completely silent except for the occasional sound of Louis drawing in a shuddering breath, and then Jay speaks.

“Louis,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, mum,” Louis answers, his own voice thick with tears.

“When Eleanor called, she told me that the two of you had a terrible argument and that the damage was irreparable. She said that you would probably be coming here to see me, and that you would need my support so I should send your sisters and brother to Lottie’s for the night so we could have some time alone together.”

Louis slowly sits up then and looks at his mother, his face scrunched in confusion. “She told you that?” he asks.

The Louis in the Screening Chair feels a combination of love, guilt and underlying anger, just as his counterpart onscreen experienced sitting with his mum in his family living room in that moment. The three emotions are in utter conflict, but the deceased Louis is once again overwhelmed with love for his ex-wife because even after all that he put her through, she was still concerned enough about Louis’ well-being that she asked his mum to be prepared for his visit and to afford him the privacy of seeing him alone. The guilt, of course, is obvious, because Louis always felt remorseful for marrying Eleanor when he knew in his heart he was attracted to men. Still, the anger that is just simmering below the surface is reflective of the anger Louis felt in that instant, when he was furious that Eleanor would dare tell his mum that he was gay, stealing that monumental moment from him.

“Yes, she did,” Jay continues. “She said that despite your falling out, she loved you and that she loved this family and that she hoped we would all be here to support you in every way you needed.”

“I can’t believe she said that, mum,” Louis replies, genuinely touched. Fresh tears spring to his eyes and he wipes them quickly away.

“Louis,” Jay says.

“Yeah, mum?” Louis answers.

“That’s _all_ that Eleanor said to me.”

Wait…

At first Louis furrows his brow, confused at what his mum is implying, but then recognition washes over him and his eyes go wide and he looks like he’s been punched in the gut.

“What?” he croaks, although he really doesn’t want her to repeat herself.

“That’s all that Eleanor said to me, Louis. Every last word.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Louis mumbles, even though he does.

Jay cradles Louis’ chin in her hand, her expression kind and full of love when she says simply, “Eleanor didn’t tell me that you were gay, Louis.” The Louis onscreen just stares at his mum, his mouth hanging open before he finally finds his voice.

“She didn’t?” he asks quietly.

“No, Louis,” Jay answers, and then she breathes a soft little laugh and her mouth turns up at the corners. “But _you_ just did.”

“Fucking hell,” Louis mutters.

“Language, Louis!” his mother chastises. “I know that you’re upset, but you really need to stop with all of this cursing. You know I don’t like it.”

“Sorry, mum,” Louis answers sheepishly, but then the realization of what they are discussing becomes evident in his expression and he tentatively asks, “You’re not mad at me, mum, are you? You don’t hate me?”

“Louis William Tomlinson! How could you ever suggest such a terrible thing? I could never hate you!” She breaks their hug to grab his cheeks in her hands and she stares in his eyes, stating emphatically, “You’re my baby boy, my firstborn child and the light of my life. You are, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me. There is nothing you could ever do to make me hate you, and I’m certainly not angry with you.”

The Louis in the Screening Chair feels tears rolling down his cheeks and once again, he’s overwhelmed with both love and relief. The moment playing out onscreen with his mother was one of, if not, _the most_ , precious moments in his life, and he’s grateful that he gets to experience it again, that he gets to feel encompassed by her love again, even if only for a few minutes.

“I just don’t ever want to disappoint you, mum,” the Louis onscreen says as he drops his head. His tears start to fall again, but this time, he’s not wracked with guttural sobs, rather, he’s crying because a massive burden has been lifted off his shoulders and he can finally be _free_. The Louis watching in the Screening Chair feels instantly lighter, just as his younger-self did in that moment.

“Louis, do you remember when you were in sixth form and you asked if you could miss school to attend that footie match and I told you, ‘absolutely not’ and then you and Liam skipped your classes and snuck off and attended anyway?” Jay asks.

“I do,” Louis answers. “But mum, Man U was playing in the Europe League finals! It was a huge match!” Louis enthuses. Jay smiles and shakes her head.

“The point I’m making, Louis, is that I told you that you had to go to your classes; your A-levels were coming up and I didn’t want you to miss anything important that would help you prepare.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “When I found out what you’d done, I was furious.”

“I remember. I was grounded for three weeks.”

“You deserved it!” Jay laughs. “But most of all, I was _disappointed_ in you because you directly disobeyed me and honestly, it hurt my feelings a great deal.”

“I’m so sorry, mum.”

“Louis, I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad! I’m telling you because a child willfully ignoring their parents is something that might cause their parents disappointment. But a child living their truth, Louis… Well that’s not disappointing at all. In fact, that’s the greatest thing a parent can hope for, and honestly, I’ve never been more proud of you than I am right now.”

Once again, Louis starts sobbing, the Louis in the Screening Chair breaking down as well.

Jay pulls Louis into her arms and holds him close, rocking him back and forth. They’re both very quiet for a few minutes, just basking in the mother-son moment, and then Jay sits up, the two breaking apart and facing each other as she starts to speak. Her voice is gentle and loving as she quietly tells Louis that she’d always suspected he might be gay, that he was the sweetest and most caring little boy imaginable, and that she confided to a best girlfriend that Louis was “just too wonderful and special to be straight,” long before he’d even hit puberty.

“You said that?” Louis laughs, because really, his mum never ceased to surprise him.

“I did! I know it might sound terrible,” Jay answers, chuckling softly. “I’m sure there are lots of little boys who are straight and are perfectly nice,” she adds and both the Louis onscreen and Louis watching from the Screening Chair each huff a laugh. “But you… Well, Louis, you were just so sensitive and you cared so much. You were so darling and kind and you would watch your Disney cartoons for hours, singing along to _Peter Pan_ and _The Little Mermaid_ , and my intuition just told me that you were an exceptional child and that you might take a less common, but no-less wonderful road in life.”

She then recounts various incidences that led her to believe that Louis might not be interested in girls, and Louis just stares in awe, because he can’t believe his mother never confronted him, that she just let him live his life and discover who he was on his own, without any pushing or prompting.

“Obviously, the biggest clue was your friend, Brian, Louis,” Jay says quietly and Louis in the Screening Chair feels a heavy pull in his heart at the sad memory of what transpired after he kissed another person, _a boy_ , for the first time. “I suspected the two of you were an item long before Mark caught you kissing,” Jay continues, her voice starting to crack and her eyes beginning to water. “But I also knew that you were young and innocent and perhaps the two of you were just having a flirtation or experimenting. I thought that maybe you would continue to like boys, or maybe you would like girls. Maybe you would like both,” she shrugs. “Eleanor was hanging around all of the time then too, and it was obvious she was crazy about you and you referred to her as your ‘girlfriend’, so I just didn’t know what to think.”

“You suspected that Brian and I were an item?” Louis asks, his voice shocked. “Mum!” Louis’ cheeks flame a bright red, and Louis watching the moment onscreen remembers that he had to force himself to say what he says next, because the topic of Brian was extremely embarrassing and traumatic for him, but he remembers that he realized in that moment that he might as well be completely open with his mum, because he’d just come out to her and really, things don’t get much more personal than that.

“Mum, Brian and I never… Well, Brian was just my friend, I swear. I had a crush on him, yeah,” he admits, “but we never were an ‘item’. That kiss that Mark walked in on was the first time anything like that ever happened between us… and the last,” he adds quietly. “I’d never kissed _anyone_ before that moment. It just kind of happened. It was my first kiss.”

Jay throws her hand over her mouth, muffling a loud cry. She shakes her head and takes Louis’ hands in her own as tears well in her eyes and begin to roll slowly down her cheeks.

“That was your first kiss?” she asks, and Louis just nods sadly in response. “It should have been a private and special moment for you, Louis… I’m so, so sorry!”

“Mum! What happened wasn’t your fault,” Louis answers, but Jay just continues crying, shaking her head.

“I think the biggest regret of my life will be that I took Mark back after what he did to you, Louis,” Jay confesses, adding that she knew that Louis was terrified of his stepfather’s explosive temper and that the girls were too. “All the anger management classes and counseling in the world shouldn’t have made up for the fact that he hurt you – or for his homophobia,” she sobs and Louis throws his arms around her, rubbing her back as he tells her that he understands and that it’s okay.

“It’s not okay!” she implores. “You could have been a totally different person! You could have lived the life you were meant to live and have been free. But then I stupidly took him back and you couldn’t be yourself around him! I saw the way you started to close in on yourself, Louis. You were less demonstrative, less flamboyant. I think he stole a little bit of your sparkle and I let it happen.”

“Mum! No!” Louis cries. “You had five kids to support! You couldn’t just leave him.” He draws in a heavy breath and squeezes her tightly before letting go and reaching for a tissue. “We _each_ did what we had to do to make _all_ of our lives easier,” Louis reasons quietly, and now he’s the one tenderly wiping tears off his mum’s cheeks.

Jay draws in a long, shuddering breath.

“Not long before you married Eleanor, Mark told me how wrong he’d been and how ashamed he was for the way he treated you. He told me that he was going to tell you not to marry El because he knew you didn’t love her; he knew that you were gay.” She looks down and shakes her head. “I talked him out of it, Louis. I’m so ashamed of myself, but I told him to leave you alone and not create any more havoc in your life.”

“Oh, mum –” Louis starts, his voice soft and sad.

“You’d been with Eleanor for so many years and you really seemed to love her and I thought that I obviously had been wrong about your sexuality because you were getting married and the two of you seemed so happy. I didn’t want him to ruin that for you.” She snuffles and reaches for another tissue, blowing her nose loudly, the Louis onscreen and his deceased counterpart in the Screening Chair both smiling at the blaring, honking noise, the tension of the moment breaking. “If I had just let him speak to you, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten married. Maybe you would have met a man and fallen in love. I feel like I’ve stolen three years of your life from you,” she says, dropping her head in shame.

“Mum,” Louis replies and he places his hands on her shoulders. “Mark _did_ talk to me before my wedding. You didn’t steal anything from me. I promise.”

“H-he did?” Jay stutters.

“Yes, he did, and I ignored him anyway. I made the decision to marry Eleanor on my own, mum, and I _did_ love her, just not in the way a man should love his wife. You did everything in your power to be a good mum to me; none of this is your fault.”

“Oh Louis!” she sobs, pulling him in close and hugging him tightly. “I’m so proud of you.” She draws in a deep breath and whispers quietly, “Thank you so much for saying that, Louis.” The Louis in the Screening Chair sees the relief on her face that he wasn’t able to see when he was held in her arms on that day three years ago. “I don’t deserve such a wonderful son.”

“You do and you’re stuck with me,” Louis answers. “Besides,” he adds, and his face breaks out into a wide smile. “I’ve got my whole life ahead of me now and I can finally be who I’m meant to be. I can’t wait to get it started, actually.”

Jay breaks the hug to once again squeeze Louis’ cheeks in her hands, the two grinning at each other contentedly. The Louis in the Screening Chair thinks that it looks like the Louis onscreen is staring at a mirror image of himself in a female version, both his and his mum’s eyes disappearing into happy crinkles, their smiles almost identical as they bask in the moment.

“You have wonderful things in store for you, Louis. When the time is right and you’re ready, you’re going to meet someone and fall madly in love and _he’s_ going to be the greatest thing that has ever happened to you, but more importantly, _you’re_ going to be the greatest thing that’s ever happened to _him_ ,” Jay says, emphasizing the male pronouns. Louis blushes and ducks his head.

“You were right, mum,” the Louis watching the scene before him whispers. “He’s wonderful and you’d absolutely love him.”

“Let’s get me through tonight, first, mum,” the Louis onscreen laughs.

The screen fades to black and this time, after several seconds have passed the screen doesn’t come back to life, rather, the lights in the Review Room slowly come up and the Screening Chair rotates, Louis once again facing the Justices.

Marcus immediately jumps out of his seat, pouring a glass of water and grabbing a box of tissues off the delegate’s table, bringing them over to Louis. Louis takes a tissue and wipes at his tears and blows his nose, and then he takes the glass from Marcus and quickly gulps it down, suddenly desperately thirsty and craving replenishment. Marcus asks Louis if he’d like another glass of water and when Louis shakes his head no, Marcus takes the empty glass from him and returns it and the tissues to the tabletop before turning to Louis and speaking.

“How are you feeling, Louis?”

Louis draws in a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth and closes his eyes for a moment, trying to draw in the heavy net of emotions that has been cast over his mind and body.

“I feel relieved,” Louis slowly breathes. “But I also feel these strange mixtures of happy and sad, of calm and anger… love and forgiveness.” He ducks his head. “Pride and shame,” he admits. “I guess I feel everything I felt during each one of those clips, but it’s like all those feelings are rolled into one, if that makes sense.”

Marcus smiles reassuringly.

“It makes perfect sense, Louis. We watched you come out to four of the most important and influential people in your life, not to mention the boys of your indoor football league,” he adds with a wink. Louis shrugs his shoulders and offers Marcus a small smile.

“Did you want to have children, Louis?” Marcus asks, abruptly changing the subject and catching Louis entirely off-guard. Louis is suddenly glad it’s the very last day of his Review, because Marcus manner of questioning can be a bit jarring, even though there seems to be a highly-effective method to his madness.

“Yes,” Louis answers, a wave of sadness washing over him. “I wanted children from the time I was a child myself… It actually hurts a lot that I never got to experience fatherhood.”

Marcus faces him then and even though he’s in reality addressing the entire Review Panel, Louis knows the words Marcus says next are meant just for him and it feels private, and they bring Louis comfort.

“I know that you would have been an amazing father, Louis. But I want you to remember that had you been able to experience fatherhood during your time on Earth, there would be a child suffering gravely right now who would have to grow up without you.”

“I... Thank you, Marcus,” Louis replies, and he offers a small smile of gratitude to his friend.

“When your wife showed you the baby magazine, what were your thoughts, Louis?”

“Um… Well, I felt excited and sad I guess: excited because I was going to be a dad, and sad because I knew that meant that I couldn’t come out as gay.”

“But why would Eleanor’s condition have stopped you from coming out?” Marcus asks, his voice serious.

“I would have never have come out if Eleanor had actually been pregnant. I would have stayed with her and raised our child together.”

“You haven’t answered my question though, Louis. Why couldn’t you come out if your wife was pregnant with your child?”

“Because… because I just _couldn’t_. I would have stayed married to my wife,” Louis reiterates for the third time.

“But gay people have children all of the time. Being gay didn’t mean that you couldn’t be a father to your child. So I’ll ask you again, why couldn’t you come out as gay if your wife had been pregnant?”

Louis stares at Marcus for a long beat, trying to figure out exactly what he’s getting at, but then Louis really considers the question and he doesn’t have to hesitate before finally giving Marcus a proper answer.

“My birth father abandoned my mum and me when I was just a baby. My first stepfather and my mum divorced when I was a teen. I was an adult when she married my second stepfather and was already out of the house.” He takes a deep breath to ground himself and then looks at the Justices before continuing. “But I guess the point I’m trying to make is that I never had any consistency growing up, in terms of having a dad. What I know of fathers is that they _leave_. If my wife was pregnant and I came out of the closet we would have divorced and I would have had to leave, and to my own son or daughter, I would have been just like the phantom fathers that I knew: someone who was temporary, someone my child had to meet all over again on every awkward overnight stay or weekend visit. I would have never let that happen. I would have stayed in the closet and I would have devoted myself to Eleanor and our child.”

His mind briefly flashes back to the weeks right before he came out and how he _knew_ that if he was to stay with Eleanor he would have cheated again, but then he quickly realizes that if there had been a child involved, he never would have let that happen. He doesn’t honestly know that staying closeted and married would have been the right thing to do. In fact, it probably would have been very wrong and even selfish, but being a full-time father to his child was that important to him. It was all so fucking complicated and once again, Louis is filled with a wave of remorse over how he treated his wife.

“I’m not saying staying would have been the best thing for Eleanor or myself,” Louis confesses. “But I know that I _never_ would have exchanged being a daily, fixed part of my child’s life for anything in the world. Even if it meant I could never live the life I was meant to lead.”

“That’s very selfless, Louis,” Marcus replies.

“I don’t know about that,” Louis answers sadly. “It’s actually probably quite _selfish_. But I would have done anything to be a good dad, including staying married to my child’s mum.”

“You would have sacrificed your own freedom and happiness for your child, Louis, that’s the definition of ‘selfless’.”

Ileana clears her throat then and Louis looks over at her. She looks like she’s about to interject, about to offer an objection to Marcus’ claim, but then she simply sits back in her chair and remains silent.

“The manner in which you told your wife you were gay: it was rather abrupt, wouldn’t you agree?” Marcus asks.

“I would. I’m not proud of the way I just blurted it out to Eleanor. I know I hurt her so deeply and I’ll always regret that, but I’d been trying to summon the nerve to tell her for weeks and after the whole pregnancy miscommunication, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer and I just said it. The way I told her may have seemed quick and thoughtless, but I promise, it wasn’t easy.”

“I believe you, Louis.”

Marcus paces back and forth, covering the distance between the advocate and delegate’s tables, barely giving Ileana a second glance as he takes slow steps before finally stopping and turning to Louis.

“How did you feel after you told her, Louis?”

“I felt heartbroken for her, and for all that we would never have together. We’d been together for so long and so I honestly grieved the end of our relationship.” He takes a moment, as he feels the familiar pull of moisture in his eyes, because ending his marriage was truly devastating, even though it was not only the right thing to do, but also something Louis desperately wanted. “It was really difficult to accept that the dreams we’d had for our future would never come to fruition. I was frightened of the unknown, but also just… well, I was incredibly relieved,” Louis answers honestly.

“Could you describe that for us?” Marcus asks. Louis does not hesitate in his answer.

“It was like this massive weight I’d been carrying for years was suddenly lifted off my shoulders… It… it was kind of the best feeling in the world, actually,” Louis answers, bubbling a breathy little giggle at remembering the feeling of finally, _finally_ , owning and speaking his truth.

“You gave up your childhood sweetheart, the shared dream of building a life and family together, along with the long-held belief that you and your wife would grow old together, all so that you could be the man you were born to be. That must have been very terrifying and very liberating, Louis.”

“It was.”

“You chose to come out to your friend, Liam, next,” Marcus states.

“I did,” Louis replies. “I probably would have told my mum next, but she was in Doncaster, so I decided to tell the people that mattered in London first, to get it all out of the way before I went home.”

“Well, you could have taken your time coming out to your friends. Why the big rush?” Marcus asks.

“Because, I’d been hiding who I was long enough. Once I told Eleanor, it was like I wanted to shout it from the mountaintops. I wanted everyone to know, so I set about doing just that.”

Were you nervous to tell Liam you were gay, Louis?”

“I was. Liam was my best mate. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him as a friend, but I sort of knew he’d always love me. I hoped he would, anyway. It was a great relief when he hugged me and I knew I’d been right about him all along.” Louis feels a surge of love, thinking about his best friend. “He was a good person,” he adds softly.

“Louis, why did you go see Zee, the man you’d been having an affair with prior to your marriage?”

Louis knew this question was coming, and he’s been dreading it. God, he hates talking about the artist so much.

“I felt that it was the right thing to do. I just wanted to, in some small way, set things right between us.” Louis slowly runs his hands over his knees before looking back up at the Justices. “I never told him that I loved him when we were together and I thought he deserved to hear it from me at least one time, even though our relationship was long finished.”

“Louis, as we witnessed during yesterday’s Review clips, Zee wasn’t always very kind to you. In fact, the way he reacted to your coming out was quite cruel. Did you expect him to treat you that way?”

“Um… I don’t know what I expected, exactly. I just wanted to take ownership for the things I denied when we were together. I wanted him to know that when we were together I loved him, and that he was right about me: I was gay. He deserved to hear that much.”

Marcus shakes his head in awe.

“You acted very honorably in going to see him, Louis. You didn’t have to do that. You were very brave.”

Louis feels his cheeks flush as Marcus continues.

“The final stop was to see your mother, then?”

“Yes. I mean, I told my siblings, the older ones, the next day. At the time, Ernest and Doris were still too young to really understand, but I told the older girls, one at a time, and they were all wonderful and accepted me.”

“Your mother told you she suspected you might be gay from the time you were a small child, Louis. Did that surprise you?”

Louis smiles. “It did. She never said anything to me about her suspicions when I was growing up. I think she just wanted me to live my life as I saw fit. She had so many regrets, just as I did. But even though I was nervous at first, telling my mum that I was gay was one of the greatest moments of my life.” Louis draws in a sharp breath at the sudden longing he feels for his mother, his emotions once again coming to the forefront. “It was really special, what we shared.”

“I’m happy that your coming out to your mum was such a positive experience for you, Louis,” Marcus says sincerely. “It was also very brave, because coming out of the closet was the greatest fear you had in life, wasn’t it?”

Louis pauses. He’d never thought of it that way before. He’d never categorized his fears at all, much less in terms of a hierarchy. But he considers it for a minute and realizes that Marcus is right.

“I-I guess, that’s true,” he answers; his voice laced with surprise.

“Why do you suppose it took you so long, Louis? You were twenty-seven years old when you came out. We already know you had an affair with another man before you were married at age twenty-four, and so you’d had a same-sex relationship in your past.” Louis winces. “Why do you think you were so frightened to tell the people you loved that you were gay? Why was it so hard for you to accept it yourself?”

Louis rubs his hands together slowly, trying to fully wrap his brain around Marcus’ questions because he wants to give open and honest answers. He wants nothing more than to pass this Review and he knows that being truthful is key. He clears his throat and looks at Marcus for affirmation. Marcus clutches his hand into a fist and Louis returns the gesture, giving his advocate a mental fist bump, the simple action having come to mean so much to him. He turns his attention to the Justices then, and speaks to them directly, doing his best to explain why he was so reticent to accept his sexuality.

“Um… I had an attraction to other boys from a very young age,” he starts quietly. “I don’t mean sexual!” He’s quick to clarify. “Although eventually it did become sexual… Obviously. But, what I mean to say is that I had crushes on other lads, even though they were purely more like… in terms of friendship and sport, and all that. I guess I just didn’t know what they meant,” he tries. “But when I hit puberty, the feelings that went along with those crushes became stronger.” He blushes furiously and for a minute he ducks his head, but he forces himself to say the next thought that comes to mind.

“This might be too much information, but… well, the first time I ever had… the first time I had a dream that resulted in… um… waking up in the morning with, um… _wet pants_ … it was about another boy.” Louis glances up at the Justices and Justice Elliot is nodding at him in understanding, Justice Kelly and Chief Justice Wen looking at him with compassion. “All those thoughts an adolescent experiences as they grow… mine were always _all_ about boys. My mum was very open, she had a couple gay friends, and I suppose I recognized myself in them.” He huffs a rueful laugh, “I suppose they recognized their younger selves in me, too… But she didn’t bring those friends around the house because during those years, Mark would never have allowed it. He was very intolerant of gay people before his counseling. He made homophobic slurs all of the time and even though my mother would always chastise him for it, it was very obvious what he thought about the subject.”

Louis wipes at his eyes that are beginning to tear up, once again a cavalcade of emotions flooding over him, threatening to carry him far away.

“After the kissing incident happened with my friend Brian, I just knew that I _couldn’t_ like boys. Mark made it very clear how wrong it was, and so I just shut that side of myself off… as best I could, anyway. I know Mark could be awful at times, but I loved my stepfather. He was really the _only_ father I ever knew. I wanted him to approve of me.” Louis’ voice drops to barely above a whisper. “I wanted him to love me back.”

Once again, Louis pauses, because everything having to do with his sexuality was so bloody complicated. It just doesn’t seem fair that he spent the vast majority of his life in the closet, but he’s grateful for those few years of freedom he experienced after he came out, and he’s incredibly grateful for what he has now with Harry. He clears his throat and raises his voice.

“I’d known Eleanor since we were very small children; she grew up not too far from me and we were good friends, even before we became a couple. I liked her. I thought she was pretty and sweet and she liked me for who I was. She never cared if people made fun of me for the way I carried myself or teased me that I was pretty and had a plump arse... She just always stood by me and I was so confused and desperate to like girls instead of boys, that I just… well, I just clung to her, really.”

“But you did love her?” Marcus interjects.

“I loved her very much,” Louis answers. “I know I’ve said it a dozen times since this Review started, but I loved Eleanor, I just wasn’t _in_ love with her. But honestly, for the longest time I don’t think I knew the difference between loving someone and being in love with them, especially during my teenage years. Eleanor made me feel so comfortable and so safe… I think those things are a big part of love.”

Louis draws in his thousandth deep breath of the day and steadies himself for what he is about to say next.

“Eleanor and I were good together and we shared a lot of happy times over nearly twelve years as a couple. By the time I met the artist – Zee… by the time I met him, I thought I was in too deep to back out. I know it sounds crazy, but I couldn’t bear the thought of calling off our wedding and crushing all of the dreams we’d spent years building, and I honestly wasn’t ready to accept who I was yet, and so I did what I thought I needed to do and I married her. I loved her. We were supposed to have a grand life together.”

“Was that what you were afraid of, Louis? Of giving up a ‘grand life’ with Eleanor if you should come out?”

“That’s just one of the things I was afraid of,” Louis answers honestly. “I was deeply afraid of hurting Eleanor. Just the thought of breaking her heart devastated me. I was afraid of destroying the life we’d planned together. I was terrified of being rejected by my family and my friends. I was scared of being different. I was afraid of starting over. I was afraid of so many things that might happen if I should tell the people that mattered to me that I was gay… probably too many to list.”

“So what made you realize you needed to come out, Louis? What happened to make you accept who you were?”

Louis shrugs his shoulders, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling for a moment, because it’s so absurd that such a small incident could cause such a huge revelation.

“I was hit on by a man at an office holiday party that El was unable to attend. I rejected his advances, but that moment was like a flashbulb going off in my head and I just knew that I had to end it with her. I knew that I was without a doubt a gay man and I had to live an honest life, no matter what it cost me. I’d been hemming and hawing for a couple of weeks, but during that terrible conversation with the baby magazine, I couldn’t keep it in any longer and I just spit it out. I had to tell her. I had to tell everyone. It was so terrifying, but it was the best thing I ever did in my life, I think.”

“You were very brave, Louis,” Marcus states emphatically.

“I… It was just time,” Louis answers humbly.

“So, to reiterate,” Marcus asks, “embracing your sexuality and coming out of the closet was your greatest fear during your life on Earth?”

“It was,” Louis answers resolutely, his voice sincere. “It honestly was.”

Marcus turns to the Justices. “We just heard myriad reasons why acknowledging and embracing his sexuality was the biggest fear my client ever faced during his lifetime.” He walks back to Louis and places a warm hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He looks directly at Ileana when he states succinctly, “And yet, he did just that.” He strides across the room to face the Justices. “My client is ready to move forward, your honors. I have no further questions.”

Marcus returns to his seat at the advocate’s table and looks to Louis, offering him a small, but confident smile. Louis is awash in relief. He feels… good. In fact, he feels pretty great.

Watching the events of the day he came out was traumatic and heartbreaking, but it was also invigorating and affirming. He feels good about what Marcus said about him, and he’s thrilled that he managed to actually overcome the greatest fear he endured during his lifetime, because it will no doubt play a huge factor in determining his fate. Now, all he has to do is survive Ileana’s cross-examination and rebuttal, and then closing arguments and this entire Review will be over. He thinks about Harry, sitting in the next Review Room and he wants to run next door and pull him into his arms and plant kisses all over his face.

 _We’re moving forward together_ , he thinks, and he closes his eyes and gives in to the slightest smile, allowing himself to fully believe it.

“Ms. Bachchan,” Chief Justice Wen says, pulling Louis out of his happy thoughts. “Would you like to ask Mr. Tomlinson any questions regarding the clip we just viewed?”

Louis feels a sudden rush of panic, because honestly, he has no idea why he allowed himself to get so confident and cocky just now. If anyone can dismantle Marcus’ summary of Louis’ coming out, it’s Ileana Bachchan, and Louis knows it. His mind races over the countless points she might make: the way he just blurted he was gay to Eleanor, how he admitted that he would have selfishly stayed married to El if they had had children, the haphazard way he told his mum, the fact that he was twenty-seven-years-old before he finally accepted who he was. He closes his eyes for a moment and silently prays she’ll have mercy on him.

Ileana stands from the delegate’s table and smoothes her hands over her skirt. She looks at Louis for a long beat, and then to Marcus before turning her attention to the Justices.

“No, your honor,” she answers, her voice loud and clear.

“What?” Marcus asks, his expression dumbfounded.

“What?” Louis repeats quietly. He bears the same confused look as his counsel.

Ileana walks around the advocate’s table and stands beside Louis, offering him a kind smile before she speaks.

“I firmly believe the clip Marc- Mr. Diamond, showed this morning was Louis’ finest hour. Coming out is a sacred moment in a person’s life and something that I would never try to diminish or disparage. Louis handled his coming out with dignity, grace, and even with good humor.” She looks Louis in the eyes, stating sincerely. “You should be very proud of yourself, Louis. You acted very bravely.”

Louis’ mouth falls open because honestly this was not what he expected at all from Ileana. Once again, he feels a bolster of confidence.

 _This is going to be okay_.

Chief Justice Wen leans forward, speaking directly into her microphone and she looks to Louis, offering him just a hint of a smile in recognition.

“Agreed,” she says, before looking at a document in front of her. “Well, I suppose we should move ahead to the matter of the _NP10-14_ ,” she states.

 _Fuck_.

Louis had forgotten all about the _NP10-14_. Whatever the hell that is, because even though Marcus explained it to him, he’s still not quite one-hundred percent certain what it all amounts to.

Chief Justice Wen addresses Ileana again.

“Ms. Bachchan, you previously submitted your final clip for today’s Review to Mr. Diamond’s office for preview, and your selected clip has already been entered into record, and then this morning you filed a _NP10-14_ to request that your original clip be discarded in favor of new material, is that correct?”

“Yes, your honor,” Ileana answers. “New information came to light this morning that is relevant to my case.”

“I see. But why didn’t you share this new information with Mr. Tomlinson’s counsel prior to this morning’s session?”

“I didn’t have time, your honor. My assistant screened the new footage for me not long before I was to leave for the Review Center. I barely had time to file the _NP10-14_ ; there certainly wasn’t enough time to share the footage with Louis’ advocate.

“Well, despite the last minute submission, you were within your rights to file the _NP10-14_ ,” Chief Justice Wen agrees. “However, that doesn’t necessarily mean that it will be accepted by this Panel.” She turns her attention then to Marcus. “Mr. Diamond, you’ve already expressed your interest in objecting to the motion, do you still intend on doing so?” the Chief Justice confirms.

“I do,” Marcus answers.

“Very well, will the Advocate and Delegate please approach the Justice Panel?”

Louis sits quietly as Marcus and Ileana each walk over to the Justice’s elevated bench, standing side by side. The Chief Justice places her hand over her microphone and leans forward and the group begins to talk: Marcus and Ileana taking turns speaking, their expressions animated and clearly angry as they argue their points, the three Justices peppering them with questions.

From his seat across the room in the Screening Chair, Louis can barely make out a single thing anyone is saying, but at one point, he thinks he hears Ileana state, “He introduced the topic himself,” and Louis doesn’t even know what that means, but it instantly causes the fine hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end, a shock of worry passing through him.

Finally, Marcus and Ileana turn around and make their way back to their seats and Louis can’t help but note that Marcus looks positively furious, the look on his face causing the jolt of worry Louis just experienced to immediately return and settle deep in his gut.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” the Chief Justice speaks into her microphone. “The Delegate’s _NP10-14_ motion has been accepted by this Review Panel.”

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_.

Louis doesn’t even know why he’s mentally swearing. He has no idea what kind of “new material” Ileana has uncovered and plans on screening, but he knows for certain it can’t be good. Louis turns to Marcus and Marcus just shakes his head subtly in annoyance. Louis looks to Ileana then, and he assumes she’d be thrilled at having her motion approved, but instead, she actually looks displeased.

“Mr. Tomlinson, your counsel has requested to preview the clip Ms. Bachchan will be screening this morning and you’ll need to leave the Review Room while he does so,” the Chief Justice informs.

Louis looks at Marcus again, and by his worried expression, Louis knows that this is not a good situation; it’s not good at all.

“Where shall I go?” Louis asks quietly. The Chief Justice offers him a reassuring smile.

“If you exit this Review Room and turn right and walk all the way to the end of the corridor you’ll find a small reception area. You can enjoy a refreshment and relax for a few minutes and then your counsel will come and get you when we’re ready for you, all right?”

Louis nods his head slowly. “All right,” he answers and then carefully gets up out of his chair and walks across the room to the exit.

“I’ll be there shortly, Louis,” Marcus tells him as he walks by, and Louis smiles at him weakly in response.

When he exits the Review Room, Louis shuts the door behind him and heads straight for the door immediately to his right, left if approaching from the lifts: the door to Harry’s Review Room. He looks around and when he notes that the corridor is empty, he presses his cheek against the cool wooden surface, his palms laid flat, his fingertips settling gently just inside the frame. He knows he can only stay here for a brief moment. The Chief Justice instructed him on where he should go and he knows that he needs follow her directions, but he just wants to be close to Harry for a minute, even as ridiculous as it seems that doing so means he has to lurk outside his door.

Louis can hear muffled voices from inside, Harry’s deep, slow drawl resonating through the wood panel, and then there is the sound of another voice, and Louis can’t quite make out if it’s a male or a female, but the person behind that voice sounds very angry, stifled shouts audible through the heavy door that serves as egress to Room 4606. He realizes in that moment that what he’s hearing is the sound of Harry’s final screening and Louis can’t imagine what’s happening in the clip that’s being shown, but he’s deeply upset that it involves anyone yelling at Harry. He hopes that the clip was selected to show Harry in a positive light, although after what Harry told him about rescuing the drowning boy, Louis is quite certain Harry is in a good position to move forward.

“Where moving forward together,” he whispers, and then lets out a heavy sigh, because he knows he has to move on.

Louis reluctantly leaves the closed doorway to Harry’s Review Room and heads down the corridor as instructed. He had no idea how long this hallway actually is; during the course of their Reviews, he and Harry have never ventured further than the lifts and the loo, but he feels like he’s walked the length of two office buildings by the time he reaches its end and the small reception area the Chief Justice told him about.

The area is pleasant and cozy, with big, overstuffed chairs and a large coffee table adorned with fresh flowers and all sorts of magazines on various topics of interest to the dead of Judgment City. There’s a long bar that runs along one wall and it reminds Louis of the little refreshment bar in his _Five in Five_ Screening Room, it’s surface covered in trays of fresh pastries, pitchers of ice water and fruit juices, and portable machines that dispense hot coffee, cocoa and tea.

Louis is the only person in the reception area. He’s too anxious to eat anything, even though he’s sure the pastries are delicious, but he does pour himself a cup of tea to try to settle his nerves. He’s almost finished his cup when Marcus returns to retrieve him. Louis immediately jumps out of his seat when he sees him and rushes over to him.

“Marcus!” Louis exclaims. “What’s in that clip? What’s happening?”

Marcus shakes his head, his face completely grim as he places his hand on Louis’ shoulder, ushering him down the corridor back toward their Review Room.

“Louis, you know that I can’t tell you a thing about the clip that will be screened, but I can tell you…” Marcus stops and pauses a moment, his expression serious. He looks like he’s considering how to deliver the most terrible news in the world. “I can tell you that I’m deeply unhappy about the clip Ileana has chosen and I fought very hard to have it dismissed. Ileana is very smart, and, despite my objections, she’s within her rights to screen the clip she has selected.” His voice is quieter and tinged in disappointment when he adds, “I just can’t believe she’s actually going to.”

Louis’ stomach clenches harshly and he swallows quickly to prevent its contents from surging back into his throat.

“You’re making me nervous, Marcus,” Louis says, and he tries to make it sound like he’s joking, but it’s more than obvious that he’s not.

“Don’t be nervous, Louis. This isn’t over. But now, more than ever, I need you to remember the advice I’ve given you before every one of your sessions. Do you remember that advice, Louis?”

Louis immediately nods his head.

“You always tell me that I need to remember what my motivation was at the time the clip took place.”

“Exactly. No matter how upsetting what you see is, or whether you think the clip unfairly portrays you, you had a reason for how you behaved in that moment and you need to remember that, and you need to share that reasoning with the Justice Panel.”

Louis nods and swallows thickly, his stomach now doing summersaults.

The two continue on down the corridor and return to Room 4604 and immediately, the Chief Justice asks Louis to take his seat in the Screening Chair. She looks at Ileana. “Ms. Bachchan,” she says, her voice ringing out through the Review Room. “You may proceed.”

Ileana stands and takes a deep breath. She looks uncomfortable, like she’d rather be anywhere else in the universe than right here, right now, but then she steels her expression and speaks.

“I pledged an oath to the universe,” she starts. “It isn’t always easy, and on some days, I don’t particularly like my job.”

Louis’ face softens and he feels a flicker of empathy for her because he realizes that she looks absolutely miserable. But then he remembers she’s about to deliver something that she hopes will send him back to Earth and that at this time tomorrow morning he might be a nappy-wearing newborn infant somewhere. He also remembers what he promised Harry: that he’s going to fight. He can’t let Ileana get under his skin. He has to be strong. Louis takes a deep breath as Ileana continues speaking.

“But regardless of the fact that I might have a bad day at work, the oath I swore is sacred. I serve as a delegate because it’s of crucial importance that only Intakes who are ready to advance in the universe move on to the next realm, and these Reviews ensure that that happens. Without this Review process, the universe would lack balance and it would be utter chaos and that simply cannot be allowed. It doesn’t matter if I like an Intake undergoing a Review,” she turns to Louis then and addresses him directly, “and I like you, Louis. I honestly do.” Louis isn’t so sure he believes her. “But my personal feelings are not important here. What is important is that those who are ready to advance move forward, and those who are not are sent back to Earth to try again. This is how the universe has worked since the dawn of time and it’s how it always will work.”

She walks over to her table then and stands in front.

“Mr. Diamond gave a stirring defense this morning that Louis overcame his greatest fear when he accepted his sexuality and shared his truth with his loved ones and friends. It was indeed a momentous occasion in Louis’ life and he should be very proud of his bravery on that day. But Louis had another great fear that was holding him back on Earth and as we’ll see in this clip, it was something he was never able to overcome. The clip that I will be presenting will prove the arguments I’ve been making all along: that Louis Tomlinson has _never_ won the battle to overcome his greatest fears and for this very reason, he’s not ready to move forward in the universe. Please pull up PD5.”

_PD5?_

_What the hell does PD5 mean_ , Louis thinks to himself, because this is not how the dates have been presented during his Review. The dates have never had letters. Rather, they’ve been a series of numbers that describe the year, month and day of Louis’ life. This can’t be good.

As if reading his mind, the Chief Justice leans over and speaks into her microphone. “Mr. Tomlinson what those characters mean is ‘Post Death, Day Five. In other words, the clip we’ll be seeing takes place on the fifth day following your death.”

“What?” Louis croaks, his body reverberating in shock. He feels like he’s just stepped on a live wire, his muscles go rigid and he’s momentarily unable to move. “PD5,” he repeats.

“Yes, Mr. Tomlinson. The Chief Justice looks at a paper in front of her. You died last Saturday, so that means that what’s depicted on PD5 took place – ”

“Yesterday,” Louis mumbles, finishing the Chief Justice’s sentence for her.

“Yes, yesterday,” she agrees, nodding her head.

“I thought this was a Review of my life on _Earth_?” Louis questions, surprise and panic evident in his voice.

“Typically, we only screen clips from an Intake’s time on Earth during a Review, you’re correct about that, Mr. Tomlinson. But on a rare occasion, a delegate or advocate might request to show a clip that was recorded post death. It’s quite unusual, but if there is enough supporting documentation for screening the clip, we’ll allow it. In the case of your Review, the PD5 clip was allowed because it pertains to a post-death subject that you introduced, Mr. Tomlinson, and any topic an Intake instigates can be subject to further examination.”

Louis starts to tap his foot nervously, completely unaware he’s even doing it until his right knee bangs against his left and he has to place his hands firmly on both of them to still his legs.

_I introduced this subject myself? What the fuck does that mean?_

This is going to be bad. This is going to be very, very bad and Louis knows it, and worst of all; whatever Ileana intends on showing to prove how weak and cowardly Louis is will be purely because Louis brought up the subject himself.

 _I’m going to be the cause of my own ruin_.

“Do you have any other questions, Mr. Tomlinson?” the Chief Justice asks, pulling him from his morbid thoughts.

Louis just stares at her, completely dumbfounded, and then he slowly shakes his head indicating he doesn’t. Louis is unable to utter another word because he’s suddenly filled with worry so overwhelming he thinks he may choke on it.

The Chief Justice offers Louis a slight nod in acknowledgment.

“Very well, then,” she says. “Shall we begin?”

With those words, the Screening Chair rotates so that Louis faces the large Viewing Screen. The lights go down in the Review Room and the screen springs to life, its huge surface slowly filled with a wash of color and then a blurry image of two men appears and comes into sharp focus.

 _No_.

It’s as if everything is happening in slow-motion and Louis’ eyes go wide and he lets out a surprised gasp. His body lurches forward in shock, as if he’s been struck by lightening. He starts to tremble all over, yet his muscles feel achingly stiff. His heart begins to pound so hard and rapidly that he’s certain it’s going to blast right out of his chest.

_No!_

Louis clutches the armrests of the Screening Chair, holding on so tight that he feels like the bones in his fingers will snap like twigs at any moment. His stomach clenches harshly causing sickly sweet, tea-soaked bile to lurch up his esophagus and splash into his throat and he can taste the burn of acid on his tongue. He slowly shakes his head.

“No,” he whispers, his skin prickling all over.

_No. No. No, no, no, no, no, nonononononono!_

Rapid fire thoughts shoot off in his brain simultaneously, urging him that he can’t sit still, that he can’t stay quiet. He can’t let these virtual strangers watch this deeply private moment. He promised Harry he would fight for him, that he would fight for _them_ and he opens and closes his mouth, desperate to put a stop to this but at first unable to force any words out.

But then, he finds the strength to speak. Louis Tomlinson finds his voice.

“No. No. No,” Louis repeats, his voice starting off a quiet, aching whisper, his head shaking back and forth in disbelief.

“No,” he says again, his voice now rose to just below normal speaking volume. He pushes his body forward so that his bum is barely perched on the edge of the seat and then he releases his grip on the chair’s armrests.

“No!” Louis cries again, this time his voice louder and resonating in the quiet room, the two men onscreen having yet to speak.

And then Louis’ voice builds, becomes clear and strong, ringing out as absolute dread and rage pump through his blood, catapulting him out of his seat until he is bounding in front of the screen and shouting loudly, his voice shrill and panicked, “NO! NO! NO! You can’t do this! You can’t show this! That’s private!” He points a shaking hand at the screen. “Turn it off!” he demands. “That’s private! Turn it off!”

The image onscreen instantly freezes and the lights in the Review Room come partially up. But the displayed image doesn’t fade to black. It doesn’t go away as Louis has demanded. Instead, it’s as if one has hit the “Pause” button on a streaming video, the people onscreen instantly stopped mid-gesture, mid-breath even, their bodies frozen in movement but strangely animated and Louis can’t help the loud sob that escapes his throat because this is by far the most surreal and terrible moment in the whole of his existence and he’s sure that everything is ruined and it’s entirely his own fault.

There before him, larger than life and blown up for everyone in the Review Room to see, is the interior of Harry’s hotel room, the shot a close-up of Louis and Harry sitting on the couch, Harry’s hands resting on his knees as he stares at the fireplace. He wears only loose fitting pajama bottoms and his naked chest shimmers with an iridescent glow, his beautiful face stilled in an expression of brokenhearted longing. Louis sits beside him facing Harry. He’s dressed in a disheveled tupa, his hair flattened at the crown and sticking out as if he’d been lying on his back, which he had been just previous to this moment. His arm is outstretched, his fingers spread wide as if trying to convey something very important. Most notably, while Harry’s face bears the painful expression of yearning and rejection, Louis’ expression is just as easy to read. The frozen Louis onscreen looks anxious and agitated, but more than anything else, Louis looks _afraid_.

Everything feels like it’s exploding into chaos.

“Turn it off!” Louis shouts again, his voice now pleading and his body wracked with panic and guttural sobs. “That’s private! I love him! You can’t show this!” He turns to Ileana and lets out another watery cry. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you doing this? I love him!”

Ileana hitches a surprised breath. She looks like she’s about to burst into tears herself. “I’m so sorry, Louis,” she offers quietly, shaking her head.

“I love him,” Louis repeats, but he lowers his voice, his shout now dropped to a loud and desperate plea. “Please. Please, don’t do this, please,” he begs. Ileana opens her mouth to speak, but instead, she drops her eyes and looks down at the tabletop, avoiding Louis’ imploring stare. Louis feels a surge of anger because Ileana is ripping his entire world apart and she can’t even face him while she’s doing it. “Please don’t do this,” he repeats, his sobbing voice wet and broken. “I was trying to protect him. That moment is private.”

Louis tears his eyes from Ileana and returns them to the image onscreen, looking back and forth between the frozen versions of himself and Harry and he thinks he might faint. His chest is rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath, but he feels like he’s choking, like he can’t get air into his lungs and he’s dizzy because of it. He’s completely devastated that everyone in the room can see this deeply private moment and as he takes in the way Harry appears so sad in the image, his pounding heart briefly clenches in his chest because he desperately wants to turn back the clock and re-do the previous evening. He wants to take it all back, everything he said and the way he acted in that moment. He hates that he made Harry look so pained and rejected; that he made him _feel_ that way. Louis’ eyes well with tears and he has no control over them, they just spill down his cheeks as he tries to regain his bearings.

The Chief Justice bangs her gavel then, calling for order, just as Marcus jumps out of his chair and runs over to Louis, grabbing him by the shoulders and staring him in the eyes.

“Mr. Diamond, please take a moment to help your client get under control so that we can continue these proceedings,” the Chief Justice says, her voice not unkind. But Marcus is already trying to do just that.

“Louis, I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath for me, okay?” Marcus says, his voice barely above a whisper so the others in the room cannot here him.

Louis makes a stuttering choking sound, tears running down his cheeks faster than he can brush them away.

“Make them turn this off, Marcus. This isn’t fair. Make this stop!” Louis pleads, his voice shaky and breaking. He points at the screen. “That’s private,” he begs.

“Louis, I promise you, I tried desperately to get this clip thrown out, but Ileana is within her rights to show it. You _have_ to get through this screening. I need you to be calm and focused and remember what I told you.

“This is lost, Marcus,” Louis mumbles, his voice defeated and tear-soaked. “They’re going to send me back to Earth, aren’t they?”

“They will if you don’t fight for yourself, Louis!” Marcus exclaims, and he gives Louis’ shoulders a gentle shake. “Are you just going to give up without fighting for yourself?”

Louis looks at Marcus and allows his words to wash over him. He blinks slowly, realizing the implication of what Marcus is saying. Louis is _not_ going to give up without a fight. He promised Harry he would fight for them and he intends to do just that. But fucking hell this is awful and Louis is not sure how he can even cope with reliving the heartbreak of last night, much less try to _defend_ it.

“Okay… Okay,” Louis chokes out as he takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. Tears are still falling down his cheeks and his chest is jerking with a panicked stutter, but he tries to gain a semblance of control. “I just don’t understand. Why is she doing this to me, Marcus? Why does she hate me so much?”

Marcus’ expression softens and his voice is soothing as he replies, “She doesn’t hate you, Louis. I promise you. She’s just doing her job. I don’t agree with her methods, but she’s one of the most successful delegates in the universe and one of the smartest. She’s trying to win her case.”

Louis feels grief roll through his body and settle heavy in his chest.

“Do you think she’s going to?” he asks, his voice small. “Is she going to win her case, Marcus?”

Marcus breathes out a low sigh.

“Louis, you have to remember that this isn’t over and you have to be strong and fight,” Marcus replies, but his words really don’t answer Louis’ question. Louis is sure he may vomit at any moment.

“Mr. Diamond. Mr. Tomlinson, are you ready to proceed?” the Chief Justice asks.

Marcus looks at Louis and raises his eyebrows as if reiterating the Chief Justice’s question. Louis bites his lip and slowly nods.

“Just one more minute, your honor,” Marcus replies. He turns then and quickly strides to the advocate’s table and grabs the box of tissues, bringing them back to Louis. Louis pulls out a handful and begins wiping at his eyes and then blowing his nose. “I believe in you, Louis. Let’s get through this.”

“Okay, Marcus,” Louis answers, drawing in another choked and shuddering breath. Louis looks over to the Chief Justice. “I’m sorry for my outburst, you honor” he says, his voice weak.

“It’s quite all right, Mr. Tomlinson. Post Death clips are never easy. These Reviews in general are never easy. Are you sure you’re comfortable to proceed.”

Louis is not at all comfortable to proceed, but he really doesn’t have a choice, so he nods his head, replying, “Yes, your honor.”

“Very well. Please take your seat, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis walks back to the Screening Chair and takes another deep breath before sitting down. He’s completely terrified and humiliated because he knows what his Review Panel is about to see and there is absolutely nothing he can do to stop it. He sits down in the chair and the lights immediately dim in the room. The Louis and Harry onscreen are instantly set back into motion as if the “Play” button has been pushed on a long-paused program and the first to speak in this program is Harry, who slowly runs his hands over his thighs, settling them on his knees as he stares at the fireplace.

“Don’t you want me, Louis?” Harry asks. The Louis in the Screening Chair winces, his heart aching over the way Harry appears so rejected.

 _I’m so sorry, darling_ , he thinks to himself, while his onscreen counterpart answers, “I want you so badly I don’t know what to do with myself. I love you so much and I want you more than anything, Harry.”

“Then why are you pushing me away, Lou? This doesn’t make sense,” Harry whispers. The camera zooms in on Harry’s face and he looks completely devastated and mystified, like he absolutely cannot fathom Louis’ actions.

“Because it’s the right thing to do, Hazza,” Louis answers, his voice sad, but sure.

Louis watching from the Screening Chair wants to jump into the moving image and shake some sense into yesterday’s version of himself. How could he have gotten things so wrong? How could he have messed things up so badly?

Last night, he sincerely believed he was doing the right thing in denying Harry. He was trying to spare him an eternity of hurt when he refused to make love to him, but after their long talk back in Louis’ hotel room and the words Harry whispered before he fell asleep, Louis realized how wrong he’d been. Now this epic mistake is being thrown in his face and it’s absolutely excruciating. It’s so private and personal and yet everyone in the Review Room gets to see how Louis treated the man he loves; everyone gets to see what a terrible coward Louis is. He can’t believe this is really happening.

Harry turns to Louis and asks him if he has a moral opposition to making love to him, and Louis promises that’s not the case and explains to him that dying has opened his mind up how much misinformation is floating around on Earth about what happens when a life comes to an end. Louis braces himself, but it still doesn’t prepare him for what his onscreen counterpart says next.

“It’s just that… I just think that this next step is massive and we shouldn’t make it unless we – ” the Louis onscreen pauses for a minute and closes his eyes and the Louis in the Screening Chair feels tense all over, because he knows what he’s about to say and he’s completely mortified with himself for being so stupid. “We shouldn’t take this step unless we both move forward, Harry.”

Harry’s expression is one of complete confusion and shock and all he can utter is weak, “What?” in return.

“We shouldn’t make love unless we both move forward, Harry.”

Louis in the Screening Chair cringes, his stomach once again violently surging. But worst of all, on top of that, he’s experiencing the exact same emotions he went through last night when he said those words to Harry. He’s shattered because he knows he’s hurting the person he loves best. He’s brokenhearted because he’s disappointing both of them to a degree they may never recover from, and he’s terrified by the looming threat of loss, because in that moment, Louis was afraid of nothing more than losing Harry forever.

The camera zooms in on Harry’s face and captures the way his shocked expression flickers with anger, his body tensing as he takes a deep breath and turns to Louis, tersely exclaiming, “We’re moving forward together, Louis.”

“Darling, I know you believe that, and I hope it’s true, I really do, but –”

“We’re moving forward together!” Harry practically shouts. He jumps out of his seat and stands in front of Louis and the Louis onscreen looks cowering and weak as Harry sadly implores, “We’re moving forward together, Louis. Why the fuck don’t you believe that?”

Louis begins to ramble then, and the Louis in the Screening Chair is shocked by just how incoherent and ridiculous yesterday’s version of himself sounds. He thought his words made sense when he said them last night, but with this unique perspective of watching himself while he actually utters those impossible things, Louis realizes that he sounds like he’s offering pathetic excuses, like he doesn’t want to make love to Harry at all. Louis closes his eyes for a moment, because he’s certain that that’s what Harry must have thought himself. In fact, when he showed up at Louis’ hotel room later in the night, he said as much, claiming that Louis had told him he didn’t want him. As he watches himself mangle his reasoning for denying Harry, he knows exactly why Harry felt so rejected.

_I’m so fucking stupid._

Louis drones on about the possibility of failing his Review, about being sent back to Earth and one day returning in a different body and not knowing Harry. He sounds so arrogant as he argues that it won’t be fair to Harry if they make love, because Louis may get sent back to Earth and Harry will never get over it. Louis in the Screening Chair knows that when he said those words last night his intentions were pure and that the harsh reality of what he was saying was, in fact, true, but he also realizes that to Harry, his arguments must have sounded positively absurd. It’s as if Louis denied Harry solely on the outcome of something that’s completely out of reach and that neither of them have an ounce of control over, and Louis draws in a surprised breath when he realizes that that’s exactly what he did. Fresh tears spring to his eyes and he squeezes his hands into tight fists, his shame and heartache so deep that he doesn’t even realize his dull fingernails are biting into the tender flesh of his palms, cutting into the top layer of his skin.

Harry pleads with Louis. He tells him that neither of them can predict the outcome of their Reviews and he begs him to be positive. But Louis just shouts at him that the final verdicts of their Reviews aren’t up to Harry, and Harry looks utterly wounded at Louis’ harsh words. Harry lowers his head then, his voice broken when he asks, “Why don’t you believe in us, Louis?”

“I believe in you, Harry,” Louis answers, his voice low and laced with shame. “I’m just not so sure that I believe in me.”

 _Shit. Shit. Shit_.

The Louis watching himself onscreen grips the arms of the Screening Chair because he knows that if he doesn’t have something to hold onto, he’s going to once again explode and fly out of his seat to beg the Justices to turn this torture off. He positively knows that not believing in himself is something that is entirely driven by fear and the version of himself onscreen is just adding to the list of reasons why he’s not worthy to move forward. Ileana must be having a field day that Louis is making her job so easy for her.

Louis watches as his onscreen twin is pulled into a tight hug by Harry, but from this perspective, he’s able to see Harry’s face and his expression is so full of yearning and sadness that Louis wants to scream because it’s entirely evident how much hurt Louis caused him.

Harry begs Louis to believe in himself. He tells Louis that they deserve to spend eternity together and that it’s going to happen. He looks so defeated as he implores Louis not to shut him out, telling him that they’re a team and are in this fight together.

“If I make love to you, I’ll only hurt you, Harry,” the Louis onscreen whispers.

Harry’s mouth falls open and he breaks the hug. He looks at Louis and then points back and forth between them. “How can showing me you love me, hurt me, Louis? Sharing love with another person is the greatest gift in the universe. I know that, and so do you.”

Louis in the Screening Chair just wants to die, but once again he is reminded of the fact that he’s already fucking dead and that it’s looking less and less likely that he is going to stay that way. His entire afternoon Review session yesterday centered on the fact that love is the greatest gift in the universe and how terrible it was that Louis rejected that gift on Earth. Now, here before him, before his entire Panel, is shiny, fresh evidence that Louis didn’t grasp that lesson: that merely a few hours after learning what a blessing and a gift love is, _and_ , after being reminded of that very fact by the man he loves, Louis once again pushed that gift away. And he pushed that gift away because of fear.

 _There’s no way I can recover from this_ , Louis thinks to himself, his body aching with grief and regret. He reaches into his lap, grabbing one of the balled up tissues that Marcus gave him. He goes to wipe his eyes, but the tears are falling so consistently now that he realizes attempting to wipe them away is a fruitless act. He starts to tear the tissue instead, bracing himself for his pathetic response to Harry.

“Because, when – _if_ ,” Louis weakly corrects. “If I’m sent back to Earth, you’ll have to spend eternity with nothing but a memory of the love we shared. You’ll be haunted with that memory and every day you’ll wake up with the knowledge that you’ll never have that kind of love again and I can’t do that to you!”

“You’re being ridiculous, Louis! I know in my heart that we’re moving forward and I hate that you don’t believe me,” Harry implores. He takes Louis’ hands in his own and pulls him to his body and Louis just stands there, his head hanging low, his shoulders drooping in doubt and defeat.

“You don’t know what’s going to happen, Harry,” Louis whispers.

The screen fades to black.

_I’ve ruined everything._

Louis expects the lights to come up in the Review Room but then, much to his surprise the screen sparks back to life. As the image onscreen comes into focus, Louis’ mouth hangs open at what he sees. He feels like he’s in some weird sort of déjà vu because the image onscreen is of him, sitting in the very Screening Chair he is sitting in right now, and he’s literally facing himself. Louis doesn’t understand what is happening at all, because the clip Ileana just screened took place at the end of the day and if she’s showing a clip from yesterday’s Review, she’s showing them completely out of sequence, which is something that hasn’t been done at any of his previous sessions. In fact, all of the clips of Louis’ lifetime have, up until this moment, been shown in chronological order.

The camera zooms in to a close up of Louis’ body and when he opens his mouth and says, “Um. I’d like to say something,” the Louis in the Screening Chair realizes exactly what Ileana is doing. She’s reversed the sequence of the clips for maximum impact and Louis cannot fathom how unbelievably clever she is. He feels a surge of anger and he realizes that in this moment, he absolutely despises the Dragon Lady.

The camera doesn’t pan away from Louis to show anyone else in the Review Room. Instead, it zooms in to a close-up of Louis’ face and stays there, locked and tight, even when the disembodied voice of Chief Justice Wen is heard in the background.

“Please feel free, Mr. Tomlinson,” the Chief Justice says. “This is your Review and you have every right to voice any concerns and to share with this panel how you are feeling.” There is a long pause as Louis’ eyes flit from right to left, and Louis in the Screening Chair is certain he was looking at each of the three Justices, but the camera still doesn’t move, it just stays locked on his face, so he can’t be entirely sure. “We want to hear from you, Louis.”

The Louis onscreen begins talking about the mistakes he made during his time on Earth and admits to how wrong it was of him to deny his love to the artist. Louis made this little speech at the end of yesterday’s afternoon Review session as a plea for compassion and mercy. The Louis watching in the Screening Chair sits up straight, a cool sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead and prickling the back of his neck at what he says next.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know that I was wrong in how I handled so many things on Earth and I’ve learned from that and I can do better. I have a chance now,” the Louis onscreen reasons, his voice earnest. “I have someone… someone that I met here, on the other side of life. I’ve met someone whom I love very much and I promise everyone in this Review Room that I would never take his love for granted. I would never be so foolish to reject love again, now that I have it and truly know how precious that gift is.”

The Louis watching in the Screening Chair closes his eyes for a moment.

_I am my own undoing._

“You haven’t met him, but his name is ‘Harry’ and I would never deny him my love, I promise you, Ileana,” the Louis onscreen continues. I’ve never known a love before like the love I feel for him and if you send me back to Earth, well… I wouldn’t have that love anymore and neither would he, and that would be a tragedy, just like you said. So please, just keep what I’m saying in mind. I’ve learned. I’m not afraid to love anymore. Just, please…”

The screen fades to black.

 _I’m done for_ , Louis thinks to himself as the lights slowly come up in the Review Room. _It’s over_.

His chair rotates and he once again faces the Justices. Marcus immediately jumps out of his seat and brings Louis a fresh pile of tissues and a glass of water, which Louis gulps down. The tears have stopped now, and Louis wonders if he’s all cried out. He feels so full of shame, so broken, and so completely devastated that he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He just needs to get through the rest of this nightmare and go see Harry.

 _Probably for the last time_.

Marcus takes the empty water glass from Louis and returns to his seat. It’s Ileana’s turn to speak first. She slowly gets up out of her chair and walks over to Louis. Louis raises his eyes to meet hers, his expression hard because he’s so furious at what she’s done, but then he realizes that she’s done nothing but expose Louis’ own behavior, behavior that was instigated by his own fears. He’s the one who acted so terrible and denied his love to Harry. He’s the one who was actually _afraid_.

“Louis,” Ileana starts, her voice calm and quiet, her words carefully parsed as she looks Louis in the eyes. “I don’t have many questions for you and this won’t take very long. I believe the clip I just showed speaks for itself. I know that all of this must be very painful for you, and I sincerely apologize.”

Louis breaks eye contact with Ileana, looking to Marcus and then rolling his head skyward before dropping it and staring at his lap, too furious and heartbroken to respond.

“Louis,” Ileana presses. “You claim to love the man we just saw in the first portion of the clip.”

Louis’ head shoots up then and his mouth falls open, because how dare she?

“I don’t just _claim_ to love him! I do love him!” Louis answers loudly, trying to keep his shaking voice under control, trying to avoid shouting all together. “That clip you showed… That was private. You had no right! I do love him; I love him more than anything… He’s my soul mate.”

Ileana’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and then her expression turns. She looks serious and sour, angry even, and her voice is aghast when she speaks.

“Soul mate? You shouldn’t make such claims, Louis! A soul mate is a very sacred thing and that term shouldn’t be batted about lightly. If that man onscreen was your soul mate, you _never_ would have rejected him the way you did.”

Ileana’s words are like a punch to the gut, but Louis promised Harry he would fight, so he looks her in the eyes and speaks, his voice unwavering in its conviction.

“Don’t call him, ‘that man’,” Louis shoots back. “He has a name. His name is ‘Harry’, and he _is_ my soul mate. Every one who sees us together can tell. We’ve heard it a dozen times from the friends we’ve made here and strangers alike.”

“People have told you that _that man_ is your soul mate?” Ileana asks, her voice surprised.

“Harry!” Louis corrects. He’s so agitated that Ileana isn’t calling Harry by his name, and that, coupled with the fact that she doesn’t seem to grasp how much Harry means to him is causing Louis to squirm in his seat. He feels like his skin might split open he’s so beside himself.

“Harry,” Ileana repeats, her voice softer. “I’m sorry, Louis. I’ll refer to him by his proper name from now on.”

Louis doesn’t reply, he just looks at his hands, noticing the crescent shaped scratches on the heels of his palms from when he was clenching them so tightly during the PD5 clip.

“Have _Residents_ that have seen you and Harry together in person told you that they thought Harry was your soul mate?” Ileana inquires, and Louis wonders why she cares so much if Harry is his soul mate, but he’s sure it’s just another weapon she’ll use against him in her war to destroy him.

“Yes,” Louis answers, the irritation obvious in his voice. “Vendors, servers, lift-monitors, Marcus… Everyone who has seen Harry and I together have commented that we’re soul mates.”

“Marcus?” Ileana puzzles, her voice full of shock. She looks over to Marcus and he nods his head slowly in confirmation and all the color drains from Ileana’s face. She looks completely confused all of a sudden, as if she doesn’t know what she’s going to do, and she begins to pace in front of Louis as she seems to try to work it all out. She walks back and forth for so long, in fact, that Chief Justice Wen calls out to her, asking her if she intends on asking Louis any more questions. Ileana looks up at the Chief Justice, startled. She takes a deep breath and answers, “Yes, your honor,” and then she mumbles, more to herself than anyone else, “I swore an oath to the universe. I have to do my job. I _must_ do my job.”

Louis has no idea what she’s going on about. He _knows_ she’s doing her job, and he also knows she’s doing her job exceedingly well.

“You claim to love that ma – Harry. You claim to love _Harry_ ,” she emphasizes. “But as we saw in the clip, you denied him your love. You pushed him away.”

“I was trying to protect him,” Louis answers meekly.

“Protect him from your love?” Ileana questions. “Harry himself reminded you that love is the greatest gift in the universe, and yet you _still_ rejected him. How could that possibly amount to protecting him, Louis?”

Louis runs his fingers through his fringe, pushing it away from his eyes as he tries to formulate the proper answer to Ileana’s question. He knows he needs to share the motivation behind his actions, just as Marcus has instructed him to, but he’s not sure that he should tell her about his conversation with Donald and Mitchell. He doesn’t know if Residents are supposed to share such tragic Afterlife stories with Intakes and he certainly doesn’t want to get anyone in trouble, least of all Donald, who has suffered more than enough. But still, he needs to fight for himself, and so he tries to be diplomatic in his answer.

“Yesterday, before I went to Harry’s hotel, I learned about a Resident who was separated from their soul mate after their soul mate failed their Review and was sent back to Earth. That person, the Resident, well… well, they were completely broken over losing their soul mate and even though well over a century has passed, they’ve never gotten over the loss. They’re unable to move on and find love again because they can’t let go of the memory of the love they and their soul mate once shared.”

Louis draws in a breath and sits up straight in his chair, looking Ileana in the eyes. “You’re very good at your job, Ileana. I recognize that there’s a chance I might get sent back to Earth and I can’t bear the thought of Harry never being loved or loving someone else again, just because of me. He deserves so much more than that.”

The tears Louis had thought were all dried out return then, and he wipes at his eyes as they one by one begin to trickle down his cheeks. “If I can’t move forward with Harry, I want him to someday find someone else,” Louis says, his voice sincere. “I love him too much to bear the thought of him spending eternity alone, just because he can’t get over me.”

Ileana stands in front of Louis and she doesn’t speak. She suddenly looks so unsure of herself, but finally, as is her habit, she smoothes her hands down the front of her skirt and then she finds her voice.

“Louis, did you ever consider that maybe denying Harry wasn’t the right thing to do? We all watched yesterday’s afternoon session as you gave a grand speech about the special person in your life and how you would never be so foolish as to deny that person love. Your speech yesterday was so moving that it’s the reason why I ordered film of you and Harry,” Ileana explains, and Louis shrinks in his seat, because now he knows exactly the way in which he ruined his chances of moving forward, and it’s almost too much to take. He should have kept his dumb, romantic mouth shut during his Review yesterday, and most of all, he should have made love to his soul mate like they both wanted. Louis has ruined everything.

Ileana continues speaking.

“You were so passionate when you spoke to this Review Panel yesterday, and I wanted to believe you when you said you’d changed; I wanted to see this great change for myself. But instead, what I saw on the film that was delivered to me this morning was the same, frightened man you were on Earth. Despite what you told this Review Panel yesterday afternoon, you still very much embrace the same fears that you struggled helplessly to overcome when you were alive. You haven’t moved past your fears, Louis. You’re just as afraid of love as you’ve always been.”

“I’m not afraid of love!” Louis shouts. “I swear I’m not! I told Harry I loved him the day after we met. We’ve shown each other we love each other in a thousand ways in the short time we’ve known each other. I’m not afraid of loving him! If I’m afraid of anything, it’s that I’m afraid of losing him, and him losing me!”

“Louis,” Ileana replies, her clear voice resonating in the quiet of the Review Room, a hint of sadness peppering her tone, “being afraid of _losing_ love is the same thing as being afraid of love itself. If you’re always looking for the worst case scenario, you can never love fully. I’m very sorry, Louis. I don’t relish saying this, but you’re not ready to move forward and I cannot pretend that you are, just because you’ve found love on this side of life. If we let _every one_ move forward, simply because we are concerned with breaking hearts, there would be no balance in the universe. Everything would fall into chaos and I’ve sworn an oath to the universe to ensure that that never happens.”

“But he’s my soul mate,” Louis answers, his voice desperate and pleading.

“And you were too afraid to show him that you loved him, Louis,” Ileana gently reminds him, and Louis could choke on the heartache and regret and bile that is filling his throat. “You were afraid of love on Earth, and you’re afraid of love here, in the Afterlife. You haven’t grown enough to advance, Louis. I’m so sorry… For both of you.” She closes her eyes for a moment, her voice softer when she turns towards the Justices. “I have nothing further.”

Ileana returns to her seat and Marcus stands from his own and walks over to Louis, launching into his questions without giving Louis a minute to recuperate from Ileana’s stinging words.

“Louis, you and Harry had a romantic evening planned last night, didn’t you?”

Louis looks up at Marcus, once again, caught off guard by his quick delivery and surprising line of questioning. He sniffles and then nods his head.

“Yes. We… Um. We’d planned on spending the night together,” Louis answers, trying to be tactful in regards to the subject of sex.

“But you’d spent the night together before,” Marcus replies, his voice laced with faux surprise. “In fact, except for the night of your arrival when you were so out of it you could do nothing but sleep, and the next day, which was the day you first met Harry, the two of you have spent every single night in this realm together, isn’t that correct?”

“Yes,” Louis answers, and he can feel his cheeks flush and knows they must be bright pink.

“Do you sleep together in the same bed?” Marcus asks, nonchalantly.

“What?” Louis answers, shocked. “What… what does that have to do with anything?”

“Please just answer my question, Louis,” Marcus replies. Louis can’t wait for him to get to his point.

“We do… We love each other, Marcus. Of course we sleep in the same bed.”

“You’ve slept together in the same bed since you first met,” Marcus reiterates. “Is it safe to assume you’ve kissed Harry, Louis?”

“Um. Yes,” Louis replies. “Harry and I have kissed.”

“You’ve kissed a lot, actually,” Marcus responds, his voice casual, downright conversational, in fact. “I should know, because every day since your Review has started, you and Harry spend the minutes leading up to your sessions standing outside this very room necking like the universe is going to end at any minute, and I’m always in here preparing your defense, having no choice but to listen to it all go down.” Marcus shakes his head and chuckles softly, turning to the Justices to say, “I’ve never seen two people more lovesick.” He looks back at Louis. “You and Harry kiss each other often, isn’t that correct, Louis?”

“Marcus,” Louis mumbles, and he feels hot all over.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” Marcus asks.

“Yes,” Louis answers quietly. “We, um… We kiss a lot.”

“Louis, I don’t mean to embarrass you, but have you and Harry seen each other naked?”

Louis’ mouth falls open and he feels the flush in his cheeks spread to his neck and chest, but he makes himself answer anyway. “We love each other,” he reaffirms. “We’ve… yes, Marcus. We’ve seen each other naked.”

“I see,” Marcus answers. “Louis, I know this next question is going to seem deeply personal and invasive, but I think the delegate has already taken a bold stride into the ‘deeply personal and invasive’ territory, and so this shouldn’t be anything new for you” Marcus says, looking over to Ileana and frowning. Ileana’s mouth falls open and she looks completely stricken by his condemnation.

“O-okay,” Louis answers, trying to mentally prepare himself.

“Have you and Harry engaged in sexual activity?”

“Marcus,” Louis groans, his voice ringing with shock. Marcus just tilts his head and raises an eyebrow, and Louis can’t help it; his mind immediately flashes on images of giving Harry head while he slowly fingered him open, of the way Harry splayed him out over a pillow and licked into him until Louis was writhing and begging for mercy beneath him, of this very morning, when Harry dropped to his knees and took Louis sudden and deep down his throat, swallowing his come and sucking him dry.

Fucking hell, ‘yes’ they’ve engaged in sexual activity.

“We… Marcus… Harry and I love each other, so yes, yes, of course we’ve engaged in sexual activity.”

“And has that sexual activity resulted in one or both of you achieving climax?”

Louis lets out an audible gasp, positively mortified and completely dumbfounded. He thinks to himself that if he were drinking a cup of tea, this is the point where he would let loose a massive spit-take.

Just then, Ileana stands from her seat. “I object to this line of questioning,” she says, her tone harsh and condescending as she looks back and forth between Marcus and the Justices. “The advocate is embarrassing his own client and his questions are wholly inappropriate. I don’t see how this is at all necessary.”

“You were the one who brought up Louis and Harry’s personal relationship, Ms. Bachchan,” Marcus counters. “You introduced the topic yourself,” he states, throwing an iteration of the words she used to defend her _NP10-14_ motion back at her. “You screened a clip that purportedly showed Louis denying Harry his love, and you accused him of rejecting Harry during your questioning. I have every right to refute that clip and to disprove your arguments. Doing so is in the best interest of my client, despite the embarrassment it may cause him.”

Chief Justice Wen places her hand over her microphone and then leans back to confer with her co-Justices. After a minute of back and forth, she leans forward and speaks. “Mr. Diamond is correct; you did introduce the subject, Ms. Bachchan.” She looks to Louis then. “Mr. Tomlinson, as long as you’re comfortable with this line of questioning, we’ll allow it.”

“I wasn’t comfortable with that clip Ileana screened,” Louis replies smartly, “and you allowed _that_.” He realizes immediately that he’s being disrespectful, but he’s so bloody upset and this is his last chance to fight for himself and Harry, and he just can’t let the opportunity to express his displeasure pass. “I’m sorry, your honor,” he adds. “I know that what I just said was rude. But I’ve been made uncomfortable every day of this Review and it just seems strange that everyone is suddenly concerned with my comfort now.”

To his surprise, the Chief Justice isn’t offended. In fact, she appears to be trying to contain a smile. “That’s quite all right, Mr. Tomlinson. I know that the delegate’s clip was extremely upsetting and I understand your anger. But putting that aside, are you comf –are you _willing_ to answer your advocate’s questions?”

Louis _isn’t_ comfortable with Marcus’ questions. He isn’t comfortable with them at all. They’re excruciating, but he is _willing_ to answer them. He knows that Marcus wouldn’t be asking him such personal things if he weren’t trying to make a point. He knows that Marcus wants to win this Review for Louis and Louis is not going to do anything to stand in the way of those efforts, so he draws a deep breath to brace himself and then he nods his head. “I’m willing to answer my advocate’s questions,” Louis replies. He looks to Marcus then, who nods his head and winks.

Marcus, as always, is on Louis’ side.

“Very well,” the Chief Justice answers. She looks to Marcus then. “Mr. Diamond, you may proceed, but let’s not get any more explicit,” she cautions. Marcus nods in understanding, turning his attention back to Louis.

“Louis, I’ll repeat my last question. Have you and Harry engaged in sexual activity that resulted in climax for one or both of you?”

Louis ducks his head at first, utterly embarrassed, but he knows that Marcus has a method to his madness, so he sits straight in his chair, looking Marcus in the eyes when he answers, “We love each other. Of course we have.”

“I see,” Marcus answers. He pinches his chin as if trying to come to some sort of understanding on a topic of great mystery. “More than once?” he asks.

Louis thinks he’s going to melt into his chair in embarrassment, but instead, he responds to Marcus’ question, once again declaring his and Harry’s love for one another before answering. “Harry and I love each other very much, Marcus. We’ve engaged in sexual activity more than once and we’ve… Yes, Marcus. More than once.”

“More than five times?” Marcus asks. Louis can’t help but slap his hand over his forehead, because damn if Marcus isn’t going out of his way to drive home his point.

Still.

Five times?

Five times is a laughable number because Louis is quite certain that he and Harry have shared more than five sexual encounters each and every day they’ve been together. Louis and Harry can barely keep their hands off each other. Every morning, every evening, every shower, even every trip to the loo taken during breaks in their Reviews is a chance to kiss, love, and grind up on each other. They’re ridiculously insatiable, actually, and they’ve had more orgasms in their few days together than Louis thought was humanely possible.

“Five times is a huge understatement, Marcus,” Louis answers cockily. It’s all out there now; he might as well be honest. “Harry and I love each other. We… we have no problem showing each other our love whenever we can.”

“Exactly,” Marcus replies confidently. He smiles at Louis, then, and Louis feels a rush of relief, because he finally fully understands why Marcus has been grilling him on his and Harry’s sex life.

“My client isn’t afraid of love!” Marcus exclaims, as if the idea is the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. “Hell, he and his boy have been loving each other like a couple of rabbits practically from the moment they first met.” Louis can feel the blush return to his cheeks, but he also can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips, because maybe this is going to be okay. Marcus looks to Ileana and then the Justices. “I’ll repeat: my client isn’t afraid of love at all. He and Harry show each other their love in myriad ways.” Marcus shrugs his shoulders and laughs softly. “Honestly, I was surprised he even made it into our Review Room this morning; he was so busy making out with Harry in the hallway before the session started that I thought he’d miss the day entirely.”

Louis rolls his eyes and blows out a heavy breath, because this is so embarrassing, but also because he’s so grateful to have Marcus on his side. The more Marcus talks about Louis and Harry in terms of their relationship, the more he’s driving home the point that Louis isn’t afraid of loving Harry.

“Louis Tomlinson isn’t afraid of love,” Marcus repeats. “But he _is_ afraid of hurting the man he loves, and contrary to what the delegate would have you believe, that doesn’t mean that Louis is afraid to love fully, it just means that his love is pure and true. In fact, he’d sacrifice anything, including his own happiness, for his love, and that’s the mark of a love that’s extraordinary and given without fear.” He turns his attention back to Louis. “Although you and Harry have no problem expressing your love for each other, you’ve never actually consummated your relationship by having sexual intercourse, isn’t that true?”

“We’ve never _made love_ ,” Louis answers, correcting Marcus’ mechanical language. Louis feels a sudden rush of love for Harry, realizing how completely gone-for he is in that he just uttered the term ‘made love’ to describe what they’ve yet to share. He’s a total sap using mushy, romantic language in a room full of practical strangers and he doesn’t even care because that’s what his love for Harry has reduced him to and it’s the best feeling he’s ever known. Marcus offers Louis a subtle, proud smile in recognition of his concise response.

“Last night, you planned a romantic evening with Harry and your plans included taking that final step in sealing your bond as a couple, is that also correct?

“That’s correct,” Louis answers, the reminder of the previous night’s disastrous date immediately bringing him back down from his temporary high.

“You told this Review Panel that prior to your date, you heard of a Resident who lost their soul mate to a failed Review and because of that, you became concerned for Harry. Is that true, Louis?” Louis nods his head. He’s suddenly aware that Marcus has no idea about his conversation with Donald and he’s just winging it based on the little bit he’s learned during the course of Ileana’s questioning and he can’t believe how smart Marcus is. He’s so very grateful to have him as an advocate and a friend.

“It’s true,” Louis answers, his voice earnest. “That person was so crushed and I… I just couldn’t put Harry through that.” He thinks of Donald downing pints of beer and crying over Jane, and then he remembers the way that Donald curled himself into a tight ball and cried himself to sleep over his lost love. “I love Harry so much,” Louis continues. “If I have to leave him, I want him to be able to move on. I want him to have a chance for a happy future. That’s all I was trying to do when I denied him. I was led to believe that if we made love and I was sent back to Earth, he wouldn’t be able to let go of that bond we shared and I didn’t want that to happen to him. I swear. It broke my heart to hurt him; I hated pushing him away.”

“Do you still believe that Louis? That consummating your relationship will cause Harry harm if you’re sent back to Earth?”

Louis pauses and considers the question. His mind races over the events of the previous evening and how massively he screwed up. He thinks of how desperate Harry was for him when they first woke from their terrible nightmares this morning and how sure Harry was that Louis was once again going to push him away. Most of all, he thinks of Harry’s words playing on repeat in his head, _I’d rather know what it’s like for you to make love to me, even if we’re separated, than to never know at all_.

“I don’t believe it any longer, no,” Louis answers, his voice sure. “I was so very wrong in denying Harry. I was so very wrong in _denying_ myself. We deserve every happiness together, even if our time together is only temporary.”

“But last night, you put your love for Harry above your own, personal desires, Louis. That’s very selfless and shows great courage of conviction,” Marcus comments.

“I’m not afraid of love,” Louis answers. “I just want Harry to have everything he deserves, whether I’m here to share that with him or not.”

Marcus nods at Louis and then turns to the Justices. “I have nothing further.”

“Very well,” the Chief Justice replies. “Ms. Bachchan, do you have anything else you’d like to ask Mr. Tomlinson?”

“No, your honor,” Ileana replies. “I’ll save my comments for my closing arguments.” Louis feels ice run through his veins at her words.

“That’s indeed your prerogative,” the Chief Justice answers. “As is the custom in these Reviews, you’ll give your summation last.” The Chief Justice places her hand over the microphone and addresses her co-counsel before once again lifting her hand and speaking. “This has been a rather intense morning. We’re going to break for a ten minute recess so all parties can regroup, and then we’ll commence with closing arguments. Mr. Tomlinson, you’re free to leave the Review Room if you please, but be back here in ten minutes, at which time you should join your counsel at the advocate’s table.”

“Yes, your honor,” Louis answers.

The Chief Justice bangs her gavel and everyone stands as she and Justice Elliot and Justice Kelly exit the Review Room. Louis stands up from the Screening Chair, walking over to the advocate’s table and collapsing into the seat next to Marcus. Ileana doesn’t look at either of them; she just immediately stands from her seat and exits the room.

“How are you holding up?” Marcus asks, his voice concerned.

“Today was brutal,” Louis answers honestly.

“I know it was, Louis,” Marcus answers. “I want you to know how proud I am of you though. You got through it and in the end, you did so with your head held high. I know that Ileana’s clip was embarrassing for you. I know my questions were probably more so, but you stood your ground and it’s almost over.” He turns to Louis then and places a warm hand on Louis’ shoulder. “It’s been my great honor to serve as your advocate, Louis.”

Louis thinks he might cry at Marcus’ sincerity.

“Thank you so much, Marcus,” he answers, his voice thick. He’s spent half the morning fighting tears and the other half sobbing uncontrollably. He really doesn’t want to cry anymore today, unless it’s tears of joy. Still, when he says his next words, he finds himself once again choking up. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me, Marcus. I don’t think of you as just my advocate, I think of you as my friend and I’m so happy to have you on my side. Every time you open your mouth with one of your bizarre questions, I realize how lucky I am.”

“Bizarre questions?” Marcus laughs. “My way of questioning may be a bit unconventional, but it serves a purpose.”

“I know it does!” Louis replies, and he lets out a watery chuckle of his own. “Never thought I’d spend my Afterlife in a courtroom discussing how many times I got off with my boyfriend, but this entire experience has been so far removed from anything I could imagine of death that I’m not surprised that it ended on that note.”

“I think we got our point across, Louis,” Marcus answers. “I don’t for a minute believe that you’re afraid of love. I know you love Harry with everything you have in you.”

“Thank you, Marcus,” Louis replies, his voice sincere. “I do.”

“I want you to know,” Marcus says, his voice sure, “you were very smart in reaffirming your love during my last round of questions. I believe that every time you said how much you and Harry loved each other, it helped soften the blow of Ileana’s screening.”

“God, I hope so,” Louis answers, and then a thought crosses his mind. “Marcus, why does Ileana get to speak last? I’m the one on trial here, shouldn’t my defense have the last word?”

“First of all, Louis,” Marcus replies, “this isn’t a trial.”

Louis has heard that one before and he’s not buying it in the slightest. Marcus continues.

“The delegate always speaks last during Reviews because they represent the universe and even though it might not make sense to you now, the universe has the biggest stake in a Review’s outcome.”

“The universe has a bigger stake than me?” Louis asks, incredulous.

“Yes, Louis. Believe it or not, what Ileana said is true in that it’s of crucial importance that only those who are ready to move forward do so. I told you in the beginning that this whole system would fall apart if we had a bunch of little brains scuttling about, trying to run the show. People that aren’t ready to move forward are unable to let go of all the baggage they carried during their lifetimes, and that’s why they’re returned to Earth to try again. In the Afterlife, people’s actions are not driven by fear; they’re driven by kindness and love. Residents never lie, they aren’t greedy, and they care about others more than they do themselves. If we allowed people to move forward who haven’t let go of their fears and aren’t ready to live selfless existences, the Afterlife would, in no time, become just like Earth itself, and trust me, Louis: one Earth is _more_ than enough.

“Residents never lie?” Louis questions, trying to absorb everything Marcus is telling him.

“Never,” Marcus answers firmly and then he grins. “We might withhold information now and again, but we _never_ lie. I promise you, the Afterlife is a place of honor and integrity. It’s just one of the reasons it’s so wonderful here.

“Marcus, can I ask you something, then?”

“You can ask me anything, Louis,” Marcus answers.

Louis swallows and briefly looks down at the table before returning his gaze to Marcus.

“Do you believe I’m ready to move forward?”

Marcus smiles widely and nods his head.

“Absolutely, I do, Louis,” he answers. “The fact that you just asked me that question reaffirms my stance. You’re honorable, Louis. You have integrity and you’re ready to advance.”

“But why doesn’t Ileana think so?”

Marcus blows out a heavy puff of air at Louis’ question.

“Because her job is to look for reasons that Intakes _aren’t_ ready to move forward, Louis. As she mentioned, she swore an oath to the universe and she would never betray that bond. There’s always some way in which humans fail. There’s always some lingering fear, no matter how small, that humans carry with them when they die, because nobody lives a perfect life. But the difference between Ileana and I is that I see your weaknesses as a few grains of sand. Ileana views your weaknesses as an entire beach, and she does so because that’s her job.”

Louis rubs his temples trying to digest Marcus’ words as he continues. “I told you on your first day here, Louis. The universe doesn’t always get it right. Every now and again, someone will be sent back to Earth that should have moved forward. The system is not one-hundred percent perfect, but nothing is. The important thing is that the system _works_. I have faith in you, Louis. I’m not done fighting for you and I won’t give up until the absolute end, whatever the outcome of this Review may be.”

“I’m just ready for all of this to be over,” Louis admits, even though he’s dreading hearing his verdict.

“Well, as soon as closing arguments are finished you can go and spend the entire afternoon with Harry.” Marcus leans in then and he tells Louis, “Don’t waste a minute of that time together, Louis. You both deserve to experience every gift the universe has to offer.” Louis understands the implication behind Marcus’ words, but he doesn’t get embarrassed, he just nods in agreement.

Before long, Ileana returns to the Review Room and takes her seat, followed by the three Justices. Everyone stands and the Review is called back into session.

“Mr. Diamond, are you prepared to deliver your closing arguments?” the Chief Justice asks.

“Yes, your honor,” Marcus answers, and then he stands, buttoning his suit jacket and tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves so that he looks his best before walking to the center of the room.

Marcus speaks on Louis’ behalf for nearly half an hour, his closing argument breathtaking in its scope and brilliant in its artful persuasion.

Marcus recounts every facet of Louis’ life that was discussed during the Review, starting with four-year-old Louis confronting his arguing parents, and then moving on to a prepubescent Louis taking the blame for his friend, Stan, who forgot his footie kit prior to an afternoon football practice.

Marcus doesn’t just talk about the clips that _he_ screened however, he also goes over the segments of Louis’ life that Ileana shared and recasts those negative, fear-filled episodes in a positive light. He talks about Louis’ bravery in kissing another boy when he grew up in a household led by a homophobic stepfather, and he recounts Louis sustaining a terrible beating at the hands of that same man, arguing that Louis had great fortitude when he attended his football practice the next day, in spite of the physical and emotional pain he was suffering at the time. He speaks of Louis breaking his ankle in the woods and trudging for hours while enduring unbearable agony in order to seek help. He regales the Review Room with declarations of how honorably Louis acted during his internship when he allowed his coworker to take credit for his work, and then he brings up Louis’ friend, Chloe, and the way that Louis so willingly quit a football team he loved dearly to stand up for her.

Louis’ mouth falls open in awe when Marcus somehow manages to make Louis’ affair with the artist sound like the most heroic thing imaginable, arguing the point that by participating in that illicit relationship, Louis was taking his first step in accepting his own sexuality. When Marcus praises the way that Louis came out to his family and friends, Louis starts to tear up all over again, because Marcus is so eloquent and thoughtful and he’s made Louis’ coming out sound like the greatest achievement known to man.

And then Marcus talks about Harry, and Louis begins to cry full-on because the way he describes their relationship is beautiful and perfect. Marcus extols Louis and Harry’s love; he shares with the Review Panel that Louis confessed to Marcus that he was in love with Harry the very first day of his Review. He waxes poetic about the love soul mates share and without even knowing the full story of what happened the previous night, manages to convey how heartbreaking it was for Louis to refrain from making love to Harry, arguing that Louis’ denial was an act of great selflessness and courage.

“The delegate has repeatedly argued that Louis has not sufficiently overcome his fears to move forward in the universe, but I contend the exact opposite,” Marcus says in closing, his voice resolute. “Time and again we’ve seen during these sessions that Louis lived his life with great courage. He overcame his own insecurities: the denial he held so long over his own sexuality, and even, his fear of love, and he did so with grace and dignity. Louis Tomlinson is ready to move on to the next realm and it would be a grievous error if he were returned to Earth to be born again. Louis’ future is on _this_ side of life. His soul mate is here and there is no limit to the ways in which the two of them can contribute to the universe together if he’s allowed to advance.” Marcus takes a moment and looks at each of the three Justices. “I’m asking that you make the decision that I’m sure each of you know in your heart is right: allow Louis to move forward. He’s ready, and it’s his time.”

Marcus returns to his seat beside Louis and Louis just stares at him in gratitude and awe. Louis balls his hand into a fist and as Marcus is pulling in his chair, he does the same and the two bump fists together under the table. The gesture makes Louis feel calm, like, maybe, just maybe, this will all work out in his favor.

And then Ileana stands and Louis’ is struck with a sudden wave of panic. Marcus places his hand on Louis’ shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze, and Louis draws in a deep breath, willing himself to calm down.

Ileana’s summation is short: significantly shorter than Marcus’, but no less impactful. In fact, Ileana’s closing argument is bloody brilliant, her words causing Louis’ stomach to once again clench violently, his heart pounding and his head spinning dizzily as she proceeds to eviscerate with surgical precision Marcus’ beautiful declarations on Louis’ good character and bravery one by one.

“Louis hasn’t fully let go of his fears,” Ileana states after brutally reiterating a seemingly endless list of Louis’ failures and fears. “Certainly not to the degree that warrants advancement in the universe. In fact, we all witnessed Louis contend that he doesn’t believe in himself, and there is hardly a greater example of being trapped by fear than those very words. Mr. Diamond argued that Louis showed his new boyfriend, Harry, love. But heavy petting with one’s partner doesn’t equate to letting go of fear. Giving in to carnal desires doesn’t mean that Louis isn’t afraid of love, it just means that like most humans, he’s sexually driven.”

Louis bites the inside of his cheek hard to keep from screaming. He can feel his face and neck turning beet red, can feel the anger coursing through his veins; he’s completely furious that Ileana would dare reduce the love he has for Harry to nothing more than a lack of control over raging hormones.

 _New boyfriend? Fuck you_ , Louis thinks to himself and he’s completely shocked by his own venom. He’s just so unbelievably indignant and hurt by what Ileana is saying, the way that she’s belittling his relationship.

“When it came down to showing Harry that he _really_ loved him, when Harry wanted Louis to actually _make love_ to him, Louis was unwilling to do so, and everyone in this Review Room knows that he was unwilling to do so because of _fear_. It’s the same fear that kept Louis closeted for the vast majority of his life.” Ileana pauses for a moment and looks around the room before continuing. “It grieves me to say this, but it was far easier for Louis to live a life of denial than to embrace the love that so scared him. Louis couldn’t admit he was gay because doing so would mean that he might actually have to open himself to real, committed love with another human being. Admitting he was gay would mean that Louis would have to _give_ love fully and also that he would have to be willing to _receive_ love in return. Love isn’t perfect and love isn’t easy, but it’s the greatest gift in the universe, and Louis was never been able to accept that gift on Earth, and as we saw today, he hasn’t been able to accept that gift in the Afterlife either.”

Ileana drops her head for a moment and when she again speaks, her expression is suddenly sad and soft and she looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Louis cannot imagine why she’s so quickly become melancholy because she’s doing a stellar job of proving her case and she should be quite pleased with herself.

“Residents don’t lie,” Ileana offers, her tone serious and compassionate. “If Louis was told by a Resident that the man he met here, _Harry_ , is his soul mate, then I must believe that he is, and that’s a great tragedy and one that deeply saddens me. It saddens me because Louis wasn’t at all prepared to meet his soul mate during this time in the Afterlife, simply because he’s not ready to move forward. I don’t know anything about Harry, or the status of his Review, but I can tell you that if you make the right decision and send Louis back to Earth, than I hope Harry is sent back too, because if he is allowed to move forward he will suffer greatly by losing Louis.” She draws in a deep breath and blows it out slowly, her voice sincere when she adds, “I wouldn’t wish that horrible sorrow on anyone.”

Louis chokes a loud sob at Ileana’s words, the thought of Harry suffering to such a degree that even the Dragon Lady hopes he’s returned to Earth to avoid it, causes Louis’ heart to shatter in his chest.

“Louis Tomlinson is a good man. He is a kind and generous man. But that’s not reason enough for his advancement in the universe. I’m so sorry to have to say this. I’m so deeply saddened that I _believe_ this because the thought of breaking up two soul mates is absolutely devastating to me.” She looks at Louis then. “I’m so sorry, Louis,” she whispers and then turns her attention to the Justices. “Each of us in this Review Room have sworn an oath to the universe, save for Louis himself. We all know the right decision to make in regards to the verdict of this Review. Louis hasn’t let go of his fears and he’s not ready to move on to the next realm. It is with a heavy heart that I ask this Review Panel to return Louis to Earth so that he may have a fresh start and begin a new life where he can grow and hopefully overcome those fears that are still hampering his existence. It’s the right thing to do, and I thank you for your consideration.”

Ileana returns to her seat and with those words, the Final Session in the Review of the Life of Louis William Tomlinson comes to an end.

Louis is certain he’s going to be sick, but more so than that, he’s positive that when he returns to this Review Room at six o’clock this evening, he’ll be handed a one-way ticked back to Earth. He’s going to lose everything. He’s going to lose Harry. He just knows it and it’s the worst feeling he could ever imagine.

The Chief Justice gives her final instructions then, encouraging Louis to go out an enjoy his afternoon while she and her co-Justices begin their deliberations. Louis just stares at her stupidly because Ileana’s words were so powerful he doesn’t even want to think of the conversation that will take place in the Chief Justice’s chambers. He can only imagine that it will be terrible and that they’ll all sit around recounting how sad Louis’ life was and what a foolish coward he still is, and how unfortunate it is for Harry to have as a soul mate a man who was destined to live in fear like Louis Tomlinson.

 _I don’t stand a chance of passing this Review_.

The Chief Justice closes out the session and everyone stands as the Justices exit the Review Room. Louis just wants to crawl into a hole and cry, but really, more than anything, he just wants to go be with Harry, and he realizes sadly that seeing Harry this afternoon may very well be one of the last things he does in this realm.

After the Justices have left, Ileana walks over to Louis and she looks nervous, but she nonetheless speaks.

“I know you probably hate me, Louis, and I don’t blame you,” she starts, and the Dragon Lady is actually blushing and Louis doesn’t know what to make of it. “I’m not asking for empathy from you, nor would I expect any, but I do want you to know I’m deeply sorry for having to fight to send you back. I meant what I said, I believe you are a good person, I just don’t believe that you’re ready to move forward.” She swallows and lifts her chin, “But I swore –”

“An oath. Yeah, I know you swore an oath, Ileana,” Louis answers, cutting her off. He can barely stand to raise his head to look at her, but he forces himself to because he wants her to see his heartbreak. “I know you swore an oath and I know were doing your job today. It still hurts though.”

“I know, Louis and I apologize,” Ileana replies. “I’m sorry for you, and for Harry.” She looks to Marcus then and Marcus actually turns away briefly before looking her in the eyes. It’s obvious from his expression that he’s just as furious over Ileana’s screening and closing argument as Louis is.

“Marcus,” Ileana says, her voice unsure. “I… well, I know you probably don’t want to hear this from me right now, but I wish you luck with Louis’ verdict. I didn’t like what I had to do today, but it’s my job. You put on a strong defense and now it’s out of our hands. This is finished.”

Marcus nods his head.

“This is finished,” he repeats, but his expression is completely blank and Louis has no idea what Marcus might possibly be thinking. Louis just wants to get the hell out there and go to Harry.

Ileana leaves then and Marcus lets out a heavy sigh. Louis turns to him.

“Her closing arguments were very strong,” Louis says, his voice meek.

“They were,” Marcus agrees. “But so were mine. Your fate hasn’t been decided yet, Louis. No matter how damning Ileana’s summation, the Justices will still deliberate every facet of your case and they’ll be very fair when doing so.”

Louis nods his head a fraction in acknowledgement.

“Listen to me, Louis,” Marcus says then. He grips Louis’ shoulders and looks him squarely in the eyes. “What I want for you in this moment is for you to leave this room and forget everything that’s happened this morning. Forget everything that’s happened this _week_ , even. Go be with your boy, Louis. Don’t waste the precious time that you have to share with him by being scared or worried about your Review. Be in the moment and go have the best afternoon you’ve ever experienced and then come back here and if things go as they should, and as we’ve _both_ fought for, you’re going to move forward. But for now, don’t worry about any of that. Just… just go be with your boy.”

Louis doesn’t speak; he just nods his head in agreement. He stands up and pushes back his chair and is about to leave the Review Room when he stops and turns, throwing his arms around Marcus, hugging his shoulders firmly.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Marcus hugs Louis in return, patting his back. “I believe in you, Louis,” he answers, giving Louis an extra squeeze. Louis nods and heads straight for the door to the Review Room without another word.

Upon stepping into the hallway, Louis is immeasurably grateful to find that Harry’s Review is still in session. He pauses for a moment outside the door to Harry’s room and can hear vibrant chatter coming from inside and Louis takes that opportunity to beeline for the loo because he knows that Harry’s session has to be drawing to it’s conclusion and Louis must look a mess and he doesn’t want Harry to see him in such a broken state.

Louis walks into the loo and immediately heads for the sinks, turning the cold water on full-blast and then cupping his hand beneath the icy stream and splashing the water onto his face. He pays special attention to his eyes, grabbing a soft hand towel from the dispenser and saturating it before pressing it against his swollen eyelids. He just wants to reduce some of the puffiness that signals that he’s spent the majority of the day crying. He doesn’t want to cause Harry any worry when he sees him, and as shameless as it sounds given the circumstances, Louis wants to look his best for him.

He’s holding the cold, wet compress over his eyes, reaching for another towel to dry off when he hears the door to the loo violently swing open.

“Louis!” a voice cries from the entranceway, and even though Louis’ face is buried in a hand towel, he would know that deep drawl anywhere.

 _Harry_.

“Hello, darling,” Louis answers, trying to sound light as he quickly rubs the dry towel over his face and looks up. “How was your session, love?”

“Louis,” Harry says again, his voice panicked. He takes three wide strides across the marble floor and then stands in Louis’ space, wrapping his arms around Louis and pulling him in to a tight hug. “What happened, Lou? I could hear you yelling! You were so upset. Please. Please tell me what happened during your Review.”

“Harry,” Louis answers, collapsing against Harry’s warm, firm body. He wants to kick himself because despite the fact that Louis has heard laughter countless times seeping through the walls that separate his and Harry’s Review Rooms, Louis never for a minute considered the fact that Harry might actually hear _him_ shouting like he did this morning when he was so enraged during the PD5 clip.

“Harry, I…” Louis mutters, drawing Harry in closer, tighter without finishing his thought. He just wants to be encompassed in Harry’s warmth. He wants to be encompassed in Harry’s love.

But Harry pulls back. “Louis,” he pleads. “Tell me what happened.” He runs his thumb along Louis’ cheekbone, his voice soft and desperate when he says, “I know that you’ve been crying, Louis, and during my session I could tell how upset you were when I heard your voice. Why were you shouting, sweetheart?”

Louis looks down then, because Harry’s expression is so worried and so sincere that it just might crush Louis’ already broken heart to bits. He runs his finger along Harry’s tupa belt and then gathers his courage to say what he has to say next.

“I was fighting for us, darling,” Louis whispers.

Harry gasps and before Louis knows what is happening, tears are welling in the corner of Harry’s eyes and threatening to spill down his cheeks and Louis doesn’t want him to be sad. He doesn’t want Harry to be sad at all.

“Why did you have to fight for us, Lou?” Harry asks, his voice wet and clouded with trepidation and heartbreak.

Louis looks up and his eyes meet Harry’s and it’s the first time since he’s known Harry that Harry actually looks frightened. Louis and Harry are soul mates and Harry can read Louis so well. Louis knows that Harry can recognize how serious Louis’ situation is, how serious _their_ situation is, just by the expression on Louis’ face.

But Louis is going to follow Marcus’ advice and he’s going to forget his Review for now because he wants to be in the moment with the man he loves. Louis speaks then, his voice resolute as it echoes in the empty restroom.

“I promise you, Harry. I’m going to tell you everything that happened during my Review. I’m never going to keep another thing from you again, I swear.”

 _For however long I have left with you_ , Louis thinks to himself, but he doesn’t voice that thought, he just continues on.

“But first, I need to ask you something,” Louis continues.

“You can ask me anything, Louis,” Harry sniffles, his voice quiet and scared.

Louis draws in a breath. He looks at Harry and Harry’s face is so earnest and Louis just wants to kiss him and love him forever, but he doesn’t really believe that forever will last longer than the afternoon they have ahead of them, so he needs to do everything in his power to make this afternoon so special that the memory of it will be enough to sustain both of them for however long they have left in this realm.

 _It will never be enough_.

“Harry,” Louis starts, his voice breathy and jagged. “Do you remember last night… and before you fell asleep, you said… Do you remember you told me that you’d rather…” Louis falters.

Harry just stares at Louis expectantly and Louis takes in a deep breath and tries again, this time, his thoughts coming out clear and concise.

“Do you remember what you told me, Haz? You said you’d rather know what it was like…” But then once again he hesitates and ducks his head, embarrassed and nervous. He takes a deep breath and meets Harry’s gaze, and this time, he barrels ahead without over-thinking anything. “Do you remember when you told me that you’d rather know what it’s like to make love with me, even if we’re separated, than to never know at all?”

“I remember, Louis,” Harry answers without skipping a beat, and a fat teardrop falls down his face.

“Did you mean it?” Louis asks, suddenly shy.

“I meant it more than anything,” Harry answers, and he lets out a watery cry, pulling Louis in and kissing his forehead and then his cheek before burying his face in Louis’ neck.

“Do you _still_ mean it?” Louis whispers, and he’s so, so afraid of Harry’s answer.

Harry lifts his head and looks at Louis for a long moment before leaning in and pressing their lips together in a deep, passionate kiss.

Louis’ head lulls back at the soft press of Harry’s plump lips against his own, the tender slide of Harry’s tongue breaching his mouth and making Louis’ knees weak. The kiss is not forceful, it’s just sweet and reassuring and it fills Louis’ entire body with little bursting bubbles of pleasure. Finally, Harry pulls back, panting shallow puffs of air against Louis’ swollen, tingling lips.

“I still mean it,” Harry answers. “I still mean it, sweetheart.”

Louis huffs a soft little breath of relief. He knew in his heart that Harry would still want him, but hearing him actually say it means so much.

“Okay,” Louis replies. He rests his forehead against Harry’s, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair and then settling his hand on the back of Harry’s neck. “Shall we go to your place or mine, then?”

Harry draws in a surprised gasp but almost immediately, his body relaxes and he pulls Louis in for another long, languid kiss.

“Well, to be honest,” Harry mumbles when they once again pull apart. “From the moment I first laid eyes on you I’ve been fantasizing about getting you in that Jacuzzi tub in my en suite.”

Louis feels a surge of love in his chest and his mouth turns up in a small smile. The smile is not forced or mired in sadness, because Louis is going to be in the moment. He’s not going to worry about his Review when he has the most beautiful man he’s ever known telling him that he wants him. He bites his lip, his smile spreading as he tilts his head and plants a soft kiss on Harry’s mouth.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, and he can feel the blush on his cheeks, can feel the slow burn of arousal igniting in his groin.

“Yeah,” Harry answers, and he lifts a hand, cupping his palm over Louis’ cheek and then grazes his fingertips along Louis’ jaw.

“Well then,” Louis says, his voice laced with desire. “Let’s go to yours.”

 

 


	19. The Do-Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading and patiently awaiting this long overdue update. This is the longest chapter yet, but there was a lot to cover and I hope you all enjoy the ride. Thank you to everyone who has left nice comments and kudos: they are deeply appreciated. This has been a massive undertaking and your acknowledgement has meant a great deal. 
> 
> Peace, Love, and Larry!

“Let’s get out of here, Louis,” Harry says. He cups Louis’ cheek in his palm and leaves a smattering of kisses along Louis’ jaw line.

The two are standing in front of a row of stainless steel sinks in the southern corridor loo of the forty-sixth floor of the east wing of the Review Center, Louis wrapped in Harry’s arms, just as he has been so many times since the day they first met.

Louis nods his head in agreement.

“I just want to get you alone,” he whispers, and Harry’s response of “Yes,” is so soft: just a warm breath of air against Louis’ skin, that Louis feels it more so than hears it. Louis takes Harry’s hand and the two walk to the lifts and when their car arrives and they step inside, Louis looks up at the small camera mounted in the upper corner and waves, Harry immediately following suit.

“I hope to see you again, Ed,” Louis says quietly and Harry pulls Louis into his arms and whispers, “You will, Lou, I promise,” in Louis’ ear, but Louis can’t help but notice that Harry’s tone lacks a little bit of the confidence it usually has when discussing their future. Worst of all, he knows it’s because Harry could read exactly how terrible Louis’ Review session was the moment he first saw Louis’ face when he burst into the restroom after their final sessions ended.

“Hazza,” Louis says, and as has become his habit, he begins fiddling with Harry’s tupa belt, running his fingertips along the silky fabric while he rests his forehead on Harry’s chest. Louis lifts his head then to meet Harry’s eyes, his fingers slowing their movement to clutch at Harry’s waist. “Marcus gave me some good advice, love, and I… Can I share it with you?”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Of course, Louis. You can share _anything_ with me; you know that. What advice did Marcus give you, sweetheart?”

Louis reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind Harry’s ear, and Harry captures Louis’ hand in his own, tangling their fingers together before drawing it to his mouth and planting a kiss on Louis’ palm.

“He told me that I should spend this afternoon with you and just… just be in the _moment_ , Harry. He told me I shouldn’t think about today’s session or even this whole Review process at all. I should just be present with you and not worry about anything else.”

“I think that’s amazing advice,” Harry replies, just the slightest tinge of sadness coloring his tone. “I want that, too. To be in the moment with you, I mean.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks.

“Of course,” Harry answers. “Let’s just forget everything about where we are and why, and focus on being together.” He leans in, pressing his forehead against Louis’. “Let’s have the best afternoon of our lives,” he says sincerely, and Louis can’t help the smile that escapes him because really, Harry just gave him a perfect segue to lighten the mood and they need to do exactly that if they’re going to be able to put the day’s events aside for a few hours.

“You do realize that we’re dead, don’t you, darling?” Louis asks, gently poking his finger at Harry’s chest. Harry shakes his head and bites back a smile of his own.

“Wait a minute!” Harry exclaims, playing along with the joke. He places his hand on his chest in faux shock, and it feels like the tension has broken and that maybe, just maybe they can relax and be fully in the moment, just like Marcus suggested. “You’re not seriously telling me that I’m dead, are you? How is that even possible? Where are the pearly gates? Where are all of the angels with fluffy wings?”

“Well,” Louis replies, raising an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only angel in this place.”

Harry huffs a soft laugh in response.

“Does that sort of cheesy pick-up line work for you?” he teases.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Louis answers, flicking his tongue over his lips suggestively. He knows he’s not imagining it that Harry’s eyes go a shade darker in response to the simple gesture.

Louis places his hands on the center of Harry’s chest, over the hidden butterfly tattoo, and aligns his thumbs perfectly, knowing Harry’s body so well that he’s certain of exactly where to place them so that they cover the body of the insect, his outstretched fingers spanning the butterfly wings.

“If we had met in a pub on Earth somewhere, would you have slipped me your number?” Harry asks quietly. He places his hands on Louis’ hips and pulls his body inwards so that they are standing but a breath apart.

“I don’t know if I would have been able to,” Louis responds, his voice sincere.

“No?” Harry questions. “Why not?”

“Because you’re so unbelievably beautiful, Harry. I think I would have been too intimidated to even approach you.” He drums his fingertips lightly on Harry’s chest.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Harry says dismissively, drawing a chuckle out of Louis.

“You don’t?” Louis asks.

“Nope,” Harry answers, popping the ‘p’ on the end.

“Well, how would it play out then?”

Harry looks at Louis, furrowing his brow as if lost in deep consideration and then he speaks.

“You’d be sitting in a booth with your mates: a loud and rowdy lot in their own right, but you… Well, you, Louis… you would be the center of the attention.”

“I would?” Louis asks and his lips start to turn up at the corners because he’s already enjoying this little game.

“You would, and you know it,” Harry replies. “All of your friends would be hanging on every word coming out of your sweet mouth, and all of the servers would be flirting with you. But you wouldn’t even notice at all, because you’re too kind and humble to even realize how brilliant and captivating you are.”

Louis feels a flush of warmth on his cheeks, but he holds his gaze steady with Harry’s.

“Where would you be, Hazza?” he asks, fanning his hands out and gliding them upward across Harry’s chest.

“Oh, I’d be with Niall, sitting at the bar. Of course, we’d barely make a dent in our first pint before he would no doubt spot some pretty little brunette or redhead and then he’d be torn about whether or not he should abandon me to go make her acquaintance. But I’d encourage him go over to her, just like I always have.”

“Yeah?” Louis says grinning.

“Mm-hmm,” Harry answers, and then he sighs dramatically. “So, I’d be sitting there, feeling sorry for myself for being all alone, but then I’d hear somebody laugh from across the room, and the sound of their voice would just be so pure and wonderful that I’d have to find its source.”

“Oh really? Then what happens?” Louis asks, now fully invested in Harry’s scenario. The lift bell chimes and the car comes to a stop on the thirty-first floor, the doors opening and two Residents stepping inside, but Louis and Harry don’t even notice. They’re too caught up in each other to observe anything outside their own little world.

“I’d look around then, searching the pub to find the man behind the laughter and then I’d see you. You’d be slapping your hand on the table, emphasizing some hilarious anecdote you were sharing and I’d be unable to move because I had never seen anyone so gorgeous before and I couldn’t even be certain that you were actually real.”

“Harry,” Louis breathes. He slides his hands around Harry’s back and rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Tell me more, darling. I love this story so much.”

Harry runs his fingers up and down Louis’ back, sending a sparkling rush of heat through Louis’ body. Louis closes his eyes because he can actually picture the scene Harry is describing and he lets himself get lost in the fantasy of meeting Harry at an Earth pub somewhere, their futures wide open and endless with possibilities, no Reviews of their lives or looming verdicts to cause them worry or set a ticking clock on their time together.

“Our eyes would meet and we’d just stare at each other – ”

“Because as soon as our eyes met, we already _knew_ ,” Louis interrupts.

Harry presses a kiss into Louis’ hair.

“That’s right, Lou,” Harry answers. “We already _knew_. You wouldn’t even tell your friends where you were going, you’d just stand up, mid-sentence even, and walk across the crowded floor and make your way to me, and I’d be waiting for you.”

Louis’ heart starts to pound harder in his chest and he’s completely caught up in the image of he and Harry locking eyes in another time, in another place, and still being as madly in love as they were when it happened in death. He lifts his head to look at Harry.

“We would already love each other before I even reached you, Harry,” he says, his voice soft.

“We would, yes,” Harry agrees. “Just like when we first saw each other here, Lou.” Louis nuzzles in closer and it feels so good to be held this way that Louis thinks he could just melt into Harry’s touch and stay pressed against his warm body forever.

“What happens when I reach you, Harry?” Louis asks, his voice breathy and barely above a whisper.

Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders, pulling him tighter so that their hips bump and their groins push up against one another and Louis sucks in a sharp breath, desire thrumming through his veins. Harry tilts his head so he can whisper directly in Louis’ ear.

“You’d take my hand and you wouldn’t say a word and the way your fingers laced with mine… Well, I’d feel your touch throughout my entire body, Louis. Then you’d just lead me out of that club and I’d let you, because even though we didn’t even know each others’ names, I was one-hundred percent certain that I had never, _ever_ experienced anything so right as the feeling of your hand in mine.”

“Oh, Haz,” Louis says lowly, the very real sense of nostalgia and yearning he is experiencing because of this otherworldly scenario overwhelming, not to mention that he’s already getting turned on. But there is a teeny-tiny portion of Louis’ brain that registers that they’re in a very public lift and he needs to control himself. But good God, Louis is so desperately in love with Harry, and Harry’s silky deep voice whispering in his ear is so unbelievably sexy that Louis just wants to take him right here, right now and pour every bit of love he has into the other man. Instead, he whispers, “Where would I lead you, darling?”

Harry pulls back and looks Louis in the eyes.

“Home,” Harry says simply.

Louis feels a rush of love and longing course through his body so intense that he thinks it might obliterate him into nothing more but speckles of light and dust. He tilts his head and is just about to press his lips against Harry’s when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m sorry to interrupt, but you might like to know that we’ve reached the lobby.”

Louis pulls away from Harry, suddenly acutely aware of his surroundings. He turns around to face the voice who disturbed their sexy little story time, and it’s coming from a man dressed in a stylish, tailored suit, not unlike the kind Marcus wears. A woman is standing next to the man and she’s also beautifully appointed in fashionable business attire, and Louis suspects that they must be advocates or delegates, or some other sort of universe bigwigs. They both look back and forth between Louis and Harry, amusedly.

“Oh. Um… Sorry. We just, yeah. Thank you,” Louis mumbles, completely caught off guard by the intrusion. He turns back and looks at Harry, who simply shrugs his shoulders and smiles, his dimple popping on his cheek.

Harry’s broad grin makes Louis break out into one of his own and he grabs Harry’s hand then and leads him out of the lift car, the two giggling like a couple of teenagers caught in the act. “Thanks for letting us know, mate!” Louis says to the man as they walk by.

The man smiles, turning to the woman he is with and then he thumbs in the direction of Louis and Harry. “Soul mates,” he explains, and she just nods her head, smiling in agreement.

Louis and Harry exit the Review Center and go straight to the tram stop and they are only there for a minute or two, standing wrapped tightly in each others’ arms before a blue tram arrives that will take them to Harry’s hotel. They step on board and Louis can’t help but gasp a surprised laugh at what he sees.

While the exterior of the blue tram looks practically identical to the exteriors of the green, yellow, and red trams that traverse the streets of Judgment City, it’s the _interior_ of the tram that catches Louis off-guard.

The interior of the blue tram is… well; it’s exceptional, really.

Louis thought the green trams he’s taken every day since his arrival in Judgment City were top of the line, but they’re nothing in comparison to the sleekly appointed blue trams reserved for the guests of The Ambassador.

The walls of the tram’s cabin are comprised of polished oak panels with black and sea blue tile inlays that are perfectly complimented by shiny black flooring. As with the other trams, there is a wide center aisle, on either side of which are rows of seats, each side of the row accommodating two passengers.

However, these seats are not the two-person bench-seats like those found on the green trams. Instead, each side of the row is comprised of two, large reclining chairs, similar to the kind one might find in the first class cabin of an airplane, and as Louis and Harry make their way down the center aisle of the tram and choose their row, Louis can’t help but think of how easily Harry gave up luxury amenities such as daily rides in this very tramcar, just so that he could spend more time with Louis.

“These seats are huge, Harry!” Louis chuckles in disbelief. “I can’t believe this! Bucket seats! Your tram has bucket seats covered in leather,” he marvels as they take two side-by-side seats near the back. “Good god, they’re comfortable,” he groans, as they settle in.

“They have built in air-conditioning and heating elements too, Louis,” Harry grins. He points to a small control panel mounted on the left armrest of each seat. The seats also have built-in motorized massage units, not unlike the massage chairs found at many high-end spas on Earth. Small television screens with integrated music players are mounted to the back of every seat, so that each seated passenger has their own, private entertainment center positioned directly in front of them, and sets of ‘Beats’ headphones are provided to offer travelers the ultimate, listening and viewing experience.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Louis says on a laugh. “It’s not that far of a ride to the Review Center. Do people really use all of this stuff?”

“Well, honestly, I wouldn’t know. I’ve really only taken the blue trams a few times. I’m always on a green tram with you, Lou,” Harry answers, leaning in and dropping a kiss to the tip of Louis’ nose. Louis loves when Harry kisses him like this: so playful and sweet. It makes him feel like Harry thinks he’s adorable, which, he’s quite certain Harry actually does.

“Well,” Louis sighs, ribbing Harry to keep the mood light. “You guests of The Ambassador are _sooooo_ posh.”

“We are not,” Harry pouts. “The blue trams aren’t anything… special.” But it’s clear by Harry’s tone that he’s trying to convince himself more so than Louis.

“Harry. This literally is the Aston Martin of trams. But don’t worry about it, love. I’m so happy that you’ve earned such wonderful transport. I’m so proud of you,” he adds, his voice kind and sincere.

“Well,” Harry reasons, “I like the green trams best.” He leans over the armrest that separates their seats and presses a series of three, quick kisses to Louis’ mouth. “Besides, I seem to recall you telling me that you drove a very fancy BMW when you were on Earth. I think _you_ must be the posh one in this relationship because I got about in an old Jeep.”

“I drove a Jeep, too!” Louis exclaims. “I loved that car. Drove it all through uni, my entire marriage, and up until a few days before I died when I had to turn it in early for the trade.” He shakes his head, his voice wistful when he adds, “I actually hated giving up that Jeep, even though the BMW was spectacular… Well, spectacular for all of the twelve minutes that I drove her, anyway.”

Harry winces.

“Sorry, Louis. I forgot you’d only just picked up that car.”

Louis smiles and presses a warm kiss to Harry’s lips.

“That’s okay, Haz,” he replies. “That BMW brought me to you. Greatest trip of my life,” he adds.

Harry draws in a deep breath. “I love you, Louis,” he says, his voice suddenly heavy and serious.

But Louis doesn’t want to hear the weight of sadness in Harry’s voice. They’re going to have an amazing afternoon together and Louis is not going to let anything bring them down. He can see a hint of worry shadowing Harry’s beautiful features and more than anything, Louis just wants to fully enjoy this moment, so he clears his throat and he leans in and kisses Harry again.

“I love you too, darling,” he replies. “Now show me some of the features of this fancy tram of yours.”

Harry smiles shyly and nods his head. He points to the control panel and then hits a few buttons and all of a sudden Louis’ seat begins vibrating: the seat buzzing with movement as massaging rollers undulate against his back and down his thighs. Louis shrieks in surprise.

“Turn it off! Turn it off!” he cries and Harry laughs and turns the settings _up_ instead, so that Louis’ entire seat is shaking and the rollers are moving up and down and massaging his backside and legs and shoulders and causing Louis to wiggle about. Louis smacks at the armrests several times in an attempt to turn the seat massagers off, but Harry intercepts him, blocking his access. Louis reaches over then and, despite his rapidly vibrating body, as well as Harry’s best efforts to push him away, manages to activate the massage function on Harry’s seat, instantly hitting the _Turbo_ button to set the device to full speed.

“No fair!” Harry laughs as the two lunge over each other in attempts to push each other’s hands away from the controls that power their own seats, both their bodies shaking and moving forward and back due to the massaging rollers that are traversing up and down inside their backrests and seat cushions at breakneck speed.

Finally, after another minute or so of slapping hands and hysterical laughter, Harry acquiesces and raises his arms in the air. “I surrender!” he cries and Louis looks at him for a moment, raising his own hands like he’s going to tickle beneath Harry’s underarms, Harry drawing his arms quickly to his body in response to the gesture. But instead of tickling Harry, Louis reaches across his body and turns off the controls to Harry’s seat first, and then his own. The rapid movement and massaging action of both their seats quickly shudders to a halt, both men giggling helplessly.

“I feel positively violated,” Louis says, slapping Harry’s shoulder playfully, his smile so wide his eyes are completely lost in the happy crinkles that his joy invokes.

“You’re going to realize that you don’t know the meaning of the word ‘violated’ when I get through with you, Louis,” Harry replies, his laughter giving way to a suggestive smirk.

“Is that right?” Louis asks.

“That’s right,” Harry answers. “Today, we’re going to do all of those _things_ we’ve planned on doing all along.”

“Remind me of those things,” Louis teases, even though he knows _exactly_ what they’ve planned on doing together. His eyes lock on Harry’s, the air about them suddenly charged and electric.

“You’re going to – ”

“Final stop! The Ambassador Hotel,” the tram operator calls out through the cabin’s speakers, interrupting Harry mid-sentence.

“Thank fuck,” Louis says, desire and anticipation burning through him. Harry just grins and leads him off the tram.

They approach the double doors of The Ambassador Hotel and the two doormen are there to greet them, opening the doors wide for their entry, when Harry suddenly stops and asks them if they can give him and Louis a moment of privacy. The two men nod and walk back inside the hotel, shutting the doors behind them, and Louis immediately feels very nervous because what if Harry changed his mind? What if Harry doesn’t want him anymore? The idea seems positively ludicrous, especially after what Harry just said to him about their plans. Louis knows Harry loves him, but still –

“Lou,” Harry says, instantly pulling Louis out of his troubled thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Louis answers, trying to disguise the nervousness he suddenly feels, but he’s not quite successful and so he has to ask the question. “Did you, um… Did you change your mind, love?”

Harry’s eyes go wide and he puts his hands up.

“No! Never!” he exclaims. He throws his arms around Louis and squeezes him tight. “Never,” he repeats, and Louis feels awash in relief. Harry pulls back and takes Louis’ hands in his own. “I just thought that maybe we could make this kind of like… a _do-over_ , you know?”

“A do-over?” Louis repeats.

Harry nods. “A _date_ do-over,” he says, and Louis ducks his head, immediately ashamed for the way he behaved the previous night when he ruined Harry’s beautiful surprise and worst of all, hurt the man he desperately loves.

“I’m so sorry about last night,” he mumbles.

“Louis, no,” Harry replies, his voice suddenly concerned. “I didn’t bring that up to make you feel bad, sweetheart. Listen, I know what – ” Harry starts and then cuts himself off before taking a breath and continuing. “Maybe everything that happened last night occurred just as it was supposed to so that this moment would be that much more special for us, yeah?”

Louis is not so sure about that, especially considering that his actions last night provided the surprising and heartbreaking plot twist of this morning’s Review: a turn of events that he’s all but certain will be the final stamp on his ticket back to Earth.

But Louis doesn’t want to think about his Review or any of that mess just yet, so instead, he answers softly, “Maybe, it _did_ all happen for a reason. But… regardless, I’d love another chance to get our date right, Harry.”

“Well, let’s have a do-over, then,” Harry says, brushing his fingertips through Louis’ hair, his face splitting into a warm smile. Louis can’t help but smile back because Harry actually _wants_ to give Louis another chance after the terrible way that Louis rejected him the previous evening. Louis knows that Harry has forgiven him and he is fully committed to not letting what happened spoil any aspect of their afternoon together, but still, Louis can’t help but acknowledge that the way he treated Harry last night was bloody awful, especially after viewing their date from an outsider’s perspective during this morning’s screening.

“A do-over sounds wonderful, darling,” Louis answers, his voice sincere.

“Okay, great,” Harry replies, and he looks so relieved and happy that Louis just wants to kiss every inch of his body, an act he fully intends on accomplishing in the very near future.

“Um… So, what I wanted to ask is if you wouldn’t mind if I took a few minutes to get ready?” Harry continues. He bites his lip shyly. “I just want to freshen up a bit and just…” Harry’s cheeks blush as his voice tapers off, but then his eyes meet Louis’ again. “Maybe we can make it official from the start? Like, you can come up to my suite and knock on my door and I’ll be waiting and expecting you, and it will be a real date: an official do-over.”

“I’d really love that, Harry,” Louis answers. He’s so moved that not only has Harry has forgiven him for the disaster of the previous evening, but that he’s also committed to making sure that this second date, this _do-over_ , is something special and fun. Louis loves him so much. “How much time do you need, love?”

Harry looks at his watch and tilts his head, contemplating.

“Seventeen minutes,” he answers, after much thought.

“Seventeen minutes!” Louis laughs. “That’s a pretty specific number.”

“Well, it will take me a couple minutes to get up to the suite, a couple more to freshen up and all that. Fifteen minutes isn’t quite enough time, but twenty is too long to be without you, Louis.”

Louis’ heartbeat quickens as he looks at his own watch.

“Seventeen minutes, then. It’s a date.” He leans in to give Harry a kiss but Harry pulls back.

“You’re going to have to wait until our date, Mister.” He lets out a soft little chuckle and then raises his eyebrows, adding, “But don’t worry, Lou, I’m pretty certain that I’m going to put out.”

“Dirty boy,” Louis teases, shaking his head.

Harry turns on his heels then and marches toward the doors of the hotel, the two doormen immediately opening them for him. He turns around again before walking inside.

“Don’t be late, Louis!” he calls out.

“I’ll be right on time, darling,” Louis answers, as Harry disappears inside.

Seventeen minutes.

_What in the hell am I going to do for the next seventeen minutes?_

But then, Louis thinks about the first time Harry came to his suite. It was the night of Louis’ footie match and Harry was carrying a bouquet of blue flowers that he picked because he said they reminded him of Louis’ eyes. The gesture was so sweet and romantic, and Louis decides he wants to return Harry’s kindness and maybe offer him a little reminder of how this whole thing started.

Louis quickly walks across the boulevard to the cobblestone footpath bordering the creek that separates the two roadways. Lush tracts of wildflowers grow along either side of the creek bed and Louis absolutely cannot believe it when he spots a patch of flowers in the perfect shade of green.

“I’ve never seen flowers with green petals,” he mumbles aloud to himself and then he looks around, unsure if he should pick them or not, but decides to just go for it, and he gathers up a handful: hastily plucking a dozen or so flowers by their stems, their absence undetectable in the colorful field.

He looks at his watch. He has twelve minutes to get back to the hotel and up to Harry’s suite, so he hurries back across the way and when he approaches the front doors of The Ambassador, the doormen open them and welcome him inside. He’s just crossing the large lobby when he hears a familiar voice call out his name.

“Mr. Tomlinson! How are you today?”

The voice belongs to Marta, Harry’s concierge, and Louis stops in his tracks to greet her, even though he’s acutely aware of the time and positively does not want to be late for his do-over with Harry.

“Good afternoon, Marta, I’m doing well. How are you?” Louis asks, and he lowers the bouquet of flowers to his side, unsure if picking them was an act that might cause trouble.

“I see you gathered some flowers, Louis! They’re lovely,” she exclaims, completely unbothered. Louis feels relieved and he’s not even sure why. He doesn’t think there is any kind of system of punishment in the Afterlife because nobody really seems to do anything wrong, and even if there was, a crime such as picking a handful of wildflowers would hardly merit any harsh penalty.

“I hope it’s all right,” he responds. “Harry brought me blue flowers on our first date, and I saw these green flowers growing by the side of the boulevard and I had to get them for him.”

“They match his eyes,” Marta smiles. “You can collect all the flowers you like, Louis.” She extends her arm, directing Louis’ attention to the dozens of vases of flowers scattered throughout the lobby and placed on nearly every available surface. “We have an abundance of flowers here and it’s a great joy to pick them and share them.”

“Thanks, Marta,” Louis replies. “You’re very kind.”

Marta smiles and then nods her head as if she’s just come to a decision on something.

“Come on, let me get a ribbon for you and we’ll wrap them in a nice bow.”

Louis looks at his watch. He has nine minutes before he’s supposed to be at Harry’s suite.

“I’m due to meet Harry in nine minutes,” Louis says, trying not to sound ungrateful, but hoping to convey that he wants to be on time.

“This will only take three, I promise,” Marta responds, ushering him to the front desk. She walks behind it and ducks from Louis’ view and he can hear her searching through a cabinet that must be built-in below and when she again appears, she clutches a wide roll of blue silk ribbon and a pair of scissors. She extends her hand across the desk and Louis automatically passes her the bouquet and she instantly gets to work, snipping off the uneven ends of the stems and then bundling them together in a neat arrangement. While she prunes and arranges the bouquet, she explains to the Louis that the flowers he’s picked are green Zinnias: a variety called _Envy_ , and Louis understands the moniker in that the common characterization for ‘envy’ is the color green. But still, when he thinks of green, all he can think of are the beautiful green eyes belonging to Harry and they don’t fill him with envy at all. Love and lust, maybe, but never envy.

Marta comes around the desk then and hands the neatly arranged and trimmed flowers to Louis.

“Hold on to them just below the blooms and I’ll wrap them,” Marta directs, and Louis does as he’s told. Without saying another word, Marta quickly winds the ribbon in a crisscross pattern around the stems and ties them off with the most beautiful and perfect bow Louis has ever seen.

“These look amazing, Marta,” Louis says, his voice full of awe. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’m happy to help you, Louis. I love tending flowers. In fact, when I have time, I put together arrangements for this hotel. It’s a bit of a hobby of mine.”

“Well, your work is beautiful,” Louis marvels, looking at the bouquet in his hand. It’s so elegant and utterly flawless that it looks like something a bride might carry on her wedding day, the sea-blue ribbon a perfect compliment to the lush green stems and peridot-colored blooms.

Marta smiles and thanks Louis for his kind praise before asking, “How are you doing on time?”

“Oh right!” Louis answers, momentarily distracted by Marta’s work. He looks at his watch. “I have six minutes.”

“I’ll walk you to the lifts,” Marta replies.

The two head to the bank of lifts and Louis pushes the _Up_ button for the private lift to the penthouse suite.

“What you and Harry have is very special,” Marta comments as they wait for the lift’s arrival.

“I love him so much,” Louis answers. He turns to Marta then, suddenly realizing that she might be willing to help in matters other than just creating artful flower arrangements.

“Marta, Harry told me that if he moves forward he’d like to study to be a chef or a baker and then come back here to Judgment City to work,” he says.

“That’s very honorable of him, Louis. Have you thought about what you might like to do?”

“I’d like to go anywhere Harry wants to go,” Louis answers truthfully. “But, I would like to give back, too. I think it would be wonderful to work here.”

Marta nods her head. “It is, Louis. It’s truly an amazing experience to help others through their transitions.”

“Our verdicts are to be read this evening,” Louis replies, and he feels a pang in his chest at the new subject, but he continues on. “Harry is the best person I’ve ever known, and I have no doubt that he’s going to be moving forward.” Louis draws in a sudden, shuddering breath. “I love him more than anything. I love him more than I ever thought it was possible to love another human being, Marta.”

Marta offers Louis a kind smile and nods her head in understanding and Louis looks down at the ground for a moment because he can feel the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes and he just needs to get through this so he can get back to the _moment_ , because he just wants to be in the bloody moment and not worry about anything else any more.

“I know that Harry feels the exact same way about you, Louis,” Marta replies.

“I think they’re going to send me back to Earth,” Louis blurts out, and before Marta can interject, Louis barrels ahead with what he needs to say. “Harry thinks so much of you and Serena, Marta, and I know that he’ll come back here and visit you... and if I’m not here with him… Well, I want to ask you to look after him for me, okay?”

“Louis,” Marta says, her voice calm and full of compassion, “Nobody knows the outcome of their Review until their verdict is read. Anything can happen.”

“I know. I know,” Louis answers. He grips the flower bouquet in one hand and grasps Marta’s forearm with the other, staring straight into her eyes. “But my situation isn’t good, so just please, promise me that you’ll help Harry get over me if I’m sent back to Earth. I can’t bear the thought of him being alone and suffering because he lost his soul mate.”

Marta’s eyes go wide and glassy and her expression falls and she suddenly looks positively devastated, and Louis knows she’s trying not to cry, but he needs her word on this if he’s to leave this realm with any semblance of peace.

“Promise me that you’ll tell him about this conversation, that you’ll tell him how much I love him and that what I want for him is to move on from me and find happiness with someone else like the kind we once shared.” Louis feels the pain of heartbreak to the core of his being, but he keeps talking, desperate to know that Harry will be cared for and encouraged to move on when – _if_ Louis is forced to begin a new life. “He has so much love to give and maybe there is someone out there who is worthy enough to receive that love from him. I want him to keep his heart open, okay? The thought of him being alone... for eternity!” Louis emphasizes, “Well, it kills me, Marta. It kills me all over again, so please, just do this for me? I’m begging you,” Louis pleads, his voice cracking on a contained sob. “Please promise you’ll do this for me?”

Marta _does_ start to cry then, the first teardrop spilling out of the corner of her eye and rolling down her cheek. Louis hates that he’s made her so upset, but he also is aware of how fond she is of Harry and he knows that he can count on her to help Harry if Louis is gone.

“I promise I will,” Marta answers, two more tears falling in quick succession. “I’ll look after him, but you don’t know what’s going to happen, Louis! You very well may move forward. You’re his soul mate, the two of you belong together and it would be a cruel mistake on the part of the universe to tear you apart.”

 _It would be a cruel mistake on the part of Ileana Bachchan_ , Louis thinks to himself, but he doesn’t voice this opinion out loud. Instead, he pulls Marta into a hug.

“Thank you,” Louis answers sincerely.

His heart clenches painfully in his chest but he doesn’t cry, he just feels relief, because he loves Harry so much that he honestly wants him to find love and happiness with another person if it can’t be with him. The thought of Harry experiencing the same type of suffering that Donald has endured for well over a century is too painful for Louis to even comprehend, so much so that it outweighs the anguish Louis feels deep inside at the idea of Harry sharing his love with someone else.

The lift bell chimes, heralding its arrival, and Louis gives Marta a genuine smile.

“I’ve got a date to get to,” he says, his voice soft, but sure.

Marta runs her fingers through Louis’ fringe and then straightens his belt.

“You look very handsome, Louis,” she says as he steps onto the lift. She wipes the tears off her cheeks and gives Louis a sad, kind smile. “Harry is so lucky to have you,” Marta continues, her voice breaking.

Louis pushes the button for the penthouse suites.

“I’m the lucky one,” he answers. He stands up straight and blows out a puff of air. “You’ll look after him for me,” he declares, more for himself than as a reminder to Marta.

“I’ll look after him. I promise,” Marta answers. Louis nods his head in thanks, just as the lift doors close.

He takes a deep breath.

 _Be in the moment. Be in the moment. Let the rest go_ , he tells himself as the lift climbs all the way to the penthouse floor. When the bell chimes and the doors open, Louis steps off and looks at his watch. He has one minute, twenty-three seconds to spare.

He takes another deep breath and then licks his tongue over his teeth. He runs his hands over his sleeves and brushes them down the front of his garment. He glances at his watch again.

Thirty-eight seconds.

He intends on arriving exactly on time for his date, and so he goes and stands in front of the elegant double doors to Harry’s suite and stares at his watch, butterflies of anticipation fluttering in his stomach.

 _This is really going to happen this time_.

The second hand ticks across the dial and when exactly seventeen minutes have past from the time that Harry left Louis standing outside the hotel, Louis raises his fist and knocks soundly on Harry’s hotel door, hiding his hand that holds the bouquet of green Zinnias behind his back.

“Who is it?” Harry singsongs from inside, and Louis can’t help but laugh.

“Prince Charming,” Louis answers, loud enough for Harry to hear.

The doors to Harry’s suite swing open.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Prince Charming,” Harry says in greeting and Louis draws in a gasp because Harry stands in the exact same pose as he did the night before: his arms stretched between the two open doors of his suite, his back arched, and just like the previous evening, Harry is wearing only his loose fitting pajama bottoms, his exposed skin highlighted with an opalescent glow.

“Oh, Harry,” Louis breathes, his voice barely audible because he’s so taken aback. “You… I can’t believe… You’re just so beautiful, darling.”

“It’s a do-over, Louis,” Harry answers, his words falling from his lips slow and deep. “You seemed to really like this…” He looks down and points at the iridescent shimmer that highlights his skin. “This… _disco_ glow, so I figured I would add a little glimmer for our date.”

Louis feels another sharp pang in his chest, his longing and sadness so intense he fears he may cry, but he closes his eyes and draws in another deep breath, pushing the pending verdict out of his mind.

 _Be in the moment. Be in the moment_.

“Well, I’m very glad you _discoed_ yourself up for me, Styles, because you’re just… well, you’re just everything, aren’t you?” Louis answers. Harry shrugs his shoulders playfully in response.

“Would you like to come inside?” Harry asks.

“I would,” Louis replies. “Very much, in fact.”

Harry stands to the side so that Louis can enter his suite and once again, Louis is shocked by the magnificence of it all. Harry’s suite looks even more spectacular with the afternoon sun shining throughout the massive living and kitchen area, warm rays of light casting over everything from the marble flooring of the entranceway, to the high-end furnishings that comprise the sunken sitting area, to the stained-glass Art Deco inlays that border the floor-to-ceiling windows that run about the perimeter of the room.

 _He gave this all up to stay with me in mine_ , Louis thinks to himself, and it reminds him of just how much Harry loves him. He draws the hand holding the flowers from behind his back.

“These are for you, darling,” Louis says. “I remembered how you brought me blue flowers because they reminded you of my eyes and these, well these flowers remind me of yours.”

Harry’s mouth falls open and he looks so pleased as he takes the flowers from Louis.

“Lou! They’re so beautiful!” Harry exclaims as he turns the flowers in his hands to admire the bouquet from all sides. “Where did you find green flowers? And the bow! It’s so pretty, Louis! How did you put this together in so short of time?”

“The flowers were growing by the creek bed in the boulevard, love, and I had some help,” Louis admits. He’s so thrilled that Harry is happy about the flowers that he has no problem sharing the fact that he had some assistance in arranging them so nicely.

“One of my girls?” Harry asks knowingly.

“Yeah. One of your girls, Haz,” Louis replies with a grin. “Marta, actually. Your friends here are absolutely crazy about you. I don’t even know how they’ve gotten to know you so well, you’ve spent so much time at mine and so little here.”

“Well, we sort of bonded during the first couple days of my stay. They’re wonderful,” Harry answers and Louis nods in agreement. Harry steps toward Louis then, and when he speaks, he changes the subject. “I’m so happy you’re here, Louis.”

“Me too, darling,” Louis answers and he means it with every breath of his soul. He reaches out, placing his hand on Harry’s hip and Harry’s warm skin feels so delicious and inviting beneath Louis’ fingertips that Louis immediately wants more. “I love you so much, Harry.”

“Then come and show me, Louis,” Harry answers, his voice thick with desire, and Louis feels a jolt of want shoot throughout his body at the implication behind Harry’s words.

Harry takes Louis’ hand in his own and this time, unlike the previous evening, when Harry pulls Louis towards the set of double doors that lead to his bedroom, Louis doesn’t resist, he just follows along, his body literally vibrating with need. They stop in front of the closed doors and Harry turns to Louis, his expression suddenly clouded with worry, and he searches Louis’ face, needing reassurance.

“Louis… I just want you to know that we don’t have to – ” Harry starts, but Louis cuts him off.

“I want to so much,” he says. “I was so wrong last night, Harry. We deserve this.”

“We deserve this,” Harry quietly repeats, and he looks so relieved.

Louis wraps his hands around the back of Harry’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

They start off slow: Louis pressing repeated kisses against Harry’s plump, pink lips, and then Harry grabs onto Louis’ waist, pulling him against his body as Louis slides his tongue into Harry’s mouth, the contact warm and delicious, Harry humming happily at the intrusion.

Louis turns Harry then, pushing his back against the closed doors to his bedroom and kissing him harder, possessively, and he feels like he’s staking claim, because even if they’re separated and Louis is sent back to Earth, even if Harry finds someone else to love him, there will never be a moment that can replace the moment they are in right now.

_This moment is everything._

“Take me to bed, Louis,” Harry implores between breaths and Louis reaches out, grasping the door handle and turning it to push the door open and as the two stumble into the room, Louis’ eyes widen and he lets out a surprised cry.

“How did you do all this?” he asks, gasping at what he sees before him.

The heavy curtains are drawn, blocking out the afternoon sunlight, and the room would be in total darkness if it weren’t for the dozen or so candles Harry has placed throughout. There are far fewer candles than were illuminated the night before, and there are no rose petals on Harry’s bed, no tray of chocolate covered strawberries placed within easy reach. But there is a bottle of champagne chilling on the nightstand and music is playing softly in the background and it’s absolutely perfect.

Louis’ feels love swell in his chest, because in a way, this last-minute effort is even better than Harry’s wonderful surprise from the previous evening because Harry managed to pull this off in under seventeen minutes, and he even found the time to apply the shimmering lotion all over his body. Louis cannot fathom how Harry accomplished it all so quickly and he looks around the room, taking it all in.

The candles are spaced carefully, the flickering light in no way overpowering, but rather, casting a soft glow over everything and best of all, providing just enough light so that they can comfortably see each other, because Louis wants to see every inch of Harry’s body when he makes love to him.

“I had some help,” Harry replies, and Louis smiles.

“One of your girls?” Louis asks, repeating Harry’s question from earlier.

“Yeah, one of my girls, Lou,” Harry answers. “There wasn’t a lot of time, and Serena had already taken the candles from last night, but these belong in my suite, so she just helped me gather and arrange them.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers, overwhelmed because Harry is comfortable enough in their relationship to dress this do-over in glowing candlelight, just as he had done the night before. Harry wasn’t intimidated or embarrassed to revisit what happened between them the previous evening. Instead, he seized the remnants of their heartbreak to create something beautiful just for Louis. “You’re so thoughtful,” Louis continues, but Harry cuts him off with another deep and passionate kiss, their tongues colliding together, and their hands trailing over each other’s body, seeking out more. Louis feels like he’s dreaming.

Harry lets go of Louis then, walking over to the nightstand on the near side of the bed and leading Louis by the hand along with him. An ice bucket sits on the nightstand’s surface, the bottle of champagne buried within. Harry sets his bouquet on the tabletop and then retrieves the bottle, pulling off the wire cage and removing the foil wrapper before twisting off the cork with a loud pop. Bubbles and liquid spill out of the mouth of the bottle and both men laugh, Louis grabbing a champagne flute and positioning it under the stream of overflowing liquid. Harry fills it to the brim and then hands the glass to Louis, Louis passing him the remaining empty glass and Harry filling that one too.

There is a small stack of hand towels, neatly folded and sitting at the rear of the nightstand and Louis suspects Harry was thinking ahead when he placed them there, and Harry grabs one and tosses it to the floor, sopping up the spilled bubbly and then kicking the towel away with his foot.

“I thought champagne would be nice, but this is a bit of a mess, yeah?” Harry chuckles as they raise their glasses.

“This is absolutely perfect,” Louis responds, his voice sincere. “What shall we toast to, Hazza?” he asks.

Harry smiles and leans in to kiss Louis.

“Let’s toast to the only thing that matters. Let’s toast to this moment. Let’s toast to us.”

Louis feels another wave of emotions crash over him, but once again, he pushes it aside.

“That’s a perfect toast, love,” he answers quietly. “To us.”

“To us.”

They clink their glasses together and both take a sip.

“Oh god, that’s good champagne,” Louis marvels.

“Incredible!” Harry agrees and they both take another long pull, the alcohol effervescent and delicious on Louis’ tongue, a warm buzz instantly flowing through his body.

“Six days in and I’m still not used to how wonderful everything tastes here,” Louis comments, taking another sip. Harry just looks at him, his eyes dark. He sets his glass down and then takes Louis’ from him too, setting it beside his own. He pulls Louis into his arms then, leaning in to kitten lick beneath Louis’ ear, sending shivers down Louis’ spine.

“You’re right, Louis. Everything tastes wonderful here. _Everything_ ,” Harry emphasizes.

“I’ve got to get out of this tupa,” Louis responds, his voice urgent. He can feel the delicious tingle in his groin, his body now humming with electricity. He kicks off his shoes and takes off his wristwatch, setting it on the nightstand next to Harry’s.

“Let me help,” Harry says, and he’s already wrapping his arms behind Louis’ back, unfastening the belt to Louis’ tupa and tossing it onto a chair that sits on the other side of the nightstand before Louis can even respond. Louis starts to grab at the material of his gown, pulling it up his body when Harry’s hands join his, helping him slide the garment up his torso and shoulders and over his head so that Louis is standing there, all but nude except for his pants, which are getting increasingly tighter by the second.

“Oh god, Louis,” Harry says, chucking the tupa beside the discarded belt on the side chair and then standing back to fully admire Louis. He just stares at him, his eyes raking up and down Louis’ body like he did on the night Louis wore his footie kit for him. “You’re so gorgeous, sweetheart.” He takes a step closer and stretches his hands, his fingertips gliding over Louis’ hips and grazing across the tiny swell of his tummy. Louis feels the touch everywhere, his semi-hard cock twitching and coming to full attention as Harry traces his fingers up Louis’ defined abdominal muscles and pecs, his thumbs lightly circling Louis’ nipples and causing him to tremble at the sensation.

Louis steps forward and the two men stand together as Louis presses a series of kisses along Harry’s collarbones, his hands sliding up Harry’s muscular biceps and settling on his shoulders. He looks down between their bodies and Harry’s pajama bottoms are already tented and Louis cannot wait to get him out of them.

“Louis,” Harry mutters, swallowing thickly so that his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and Louis absolutely has to nip on the sensitive skin there, causing Harry to let out a low whine.

“Yes, darling?” Louis answers, but he doesn’t slow his movements. Rather, he picks up the pace, moving his mouth lower across Harry’s neck, and licking at his skin. It tastes delicious, like vanilla, and Louis realizes that the shimmering body lotion that Harry is wearing must be edible and he plans on tonguing every bit of that vanilla coating off of him. He mouths at the juncture of Harry’s neck and shoulder and then he clamps down and Harry makes the softest mewling sound, his head dropping to the side, his hips jutting forward to push his erection against Louis’. Louis wraps one hand behind Harry’s back and grabs on to his arse cheek, digging his fingers into the clothed flesh while the other hand grips Harry’s shoulder, Harry positively pliant beneath him. Louis continues his work on the base of Harry’s neck, sucking and biting and licking Harry’s sweet skin, all the while Harry panting and letting out little whimpering cries. Finally, he pulls away to admire his work and is pleased by the large, purplish bruise that stands out in bold contrast against Harry’s creamy flesh.

 _He’ll take this with him_.

“Loooouis,” Harry groans, dragging out Louis’ name. Louis tears his eyes away from Harry’s beautiful spit-slick skin, stamped with the imprint of Louis’ own mouth, and he looks up to meet Harry’s eyes. Harry’s pupils are completely blown and he bites his bottom lip, the tissue there blanching white and again blooming with their natural lush raspberry color as he lets go to speak. “Make love to me, Louis,” he says, his voice desperate and pleading. Louis’ heartbeat quickens and his blood rushes through his veins because fucking hell he’s going to make love to Harry; he’s going to make love to him right now.

 _This is finally happening_.

“Yes, Harry… Yes,” Louis answers, nodding his head in agreement. He could say ‘yes’ a thousand times and it wouldn’t be nearly enough to convey how much he wants this, how much he’s lived and literally died for this moment. He clamps his mouth over Harry’s, the kiss wet and sloppy and full of longing. They take a step back toward the bed, their bodies moving in perfect tandem, when Harry breaks the kiss.

“Help me pull back the covers, Lou,” he grunts and Louis nods his head, quickly scurrying to the other side because Harry’s bed is enormous and it’s going to take both of them pulling back the linens together if they want to get this done immediately so that they can actually get in it. Louis grabs the duvet and top sheet on his side of the bed and Harry does the same on his side and then they walk down to the foot of the mattress together, pulling the bedding with them as they go and folding it over the end.

They both stand on their opposite sides for a moment, staring at each other hungrily and then Harry climbs onto the mattress, crawling across it to the center like a feral cat and then sitting back on his knees. Harry’s movements are smooth and fast and the way that the lotion casts sparkling shadows of color over the strong muscles of his shoulders and smooth contours of his back and biceps makes Louis’ own skin burn. It’s by far the sexiest thing Louis has ever seen, and he’s seen Harry do _a lot_ of sexy things. Harry reaches out his hand to Louis then, and Louis goes to him, climbing onto the mattress himself and practically lunging across the bed to reach Harry in the middle. Louis is sure his movements aren’t a fraction as seductive as Harry’s but Harry doesn’t seem to mind, he just allows Louis to lay him out so that his head rests on of one of the fluffy pillows and his body is stretched out before him, waiting.

Louis climbs over him, straddling Harry’s waist, his weight rested on his own knees.

“I’m going to worship every inch of this beautiful body of yours, Haz,” Louis declares. He leans over, planting his hands on either side of Harry’s shoulders and then he licks at Harry’s right nipple, nipping at the puffy pinkish-brown bud, causing Harry to squirm and pant out a heavy breath beneath him. “After I’ve kissed you everywhere and put my mark all over your skin, I’m going to open you up, one finger at a time, and when you’re ready, I’m going to make love to you, slow and sweet. Is that all right with you, darling?”

“Louis,” Harry breathes, nodding his head. “Please. Please.”

Louis is as good as his word.

He starts by kissing along Harry’s jaw line, his hand slowly working its way over the center of Harry’s chest, his fingers walking down Harry’s abdomen and then rubbing over the soft fabric of Harry’s pajama bottoms, cradling his clothed cock.

“You feel so good in my hand,” Louis comments. “You’re so thick, baby. So heavy.” Harry just closes his eyes and lets out a little groan. Louis gives Harry’s dick a gentle squeeze and then lets go because more than anything, he wants this moment to last and he’s going to take his time taking Harry apart.

He dips his head, kissing under Harry’s jaw and then slowly moves down Harry’s neck before pushing himself upright and once again resting his weight on his own knees and calves. He takes Harry’s left hand in his own and presses a soft kiss to the tip of each of Harry’s fingers and thumb, and then he turns Harry’s hand and begins planting kisses along the inside of Harry’s wrist, leaning forward to work his way up Harry’s forearm, licking and nipping and slurping at Harry’s sensitive flesh along the way until he’s sucking a lovebite to the inside of Harry’s bicep. Harry just lays there beneath him, making little whimpering moaning sounds, his free hand gripping the sheet as Louis tongues and bites his way across Harry’s chest to his right shoulder, working his way down Harry’s right arm in the same way he worked his way up the left, once again kissing Harry’s fingertips, this time on his right hand, as he holds Harry’s palm to his mouth.

Louis moves back to Harry’s chest then. He licks between Harry’s pecs and flickers his tongue into the dip at the base of Harry’s throat and the sweet taste of his skin, combined with the way Harry is already lifting his hips and making quiet little pleading noises is driving Louis positively wild. This experience is already better than any sexual encounter Louis has ever known, and they’ve only just begun.

Louis feels warmth circulating throughout his body and his pulse has quickened, but it’s so much more than that. It’s as if everything is heightened in a way that Louis has never imagined possible. He had his fair share of sex during his lifetime, but nothing compares to this. It’s like he and Harry share an entirely new level of intimacy beyond anything that was remotely attainable when Louis was on Earth and he’s positively mad with the love and desire he feels. It’s all consuming. He’s allowing himself to let go and be completely in the moment and given that Harry is so openly greedy for Louis – his own fingers dragging over Louis’ arms and sliding up and down his back possessively – it’s clear that he feels the same.

Harry’s hands don’t stop moving as Louis tongues over his body, and the way that Harry pants out, “Lou. Lou,” digging his nails into the soft flesh of Louis’ hips causes Louis’ dick to strain in his pants. Every kiss Louis presses to Harry’s skin feels sacred and pure and Louis wants to wrap a cocoon around the both of them so that they can stay in this moment forever.

“I love you so much,” Louis mutters as he leans in to once again press his lips against Harry’s. Harry wraps his large hand behind Louis’ head, cradling it so that he can pull him closer, the kiss slow and deep and sweet, each glide of their tongues and wet smack of their lips shooting little sparks of electricity that Louis feels all over his body. They kiss until Louis is dizzy with it, and when he finally pulls back to break it, Harry raises his head off the pillow to chase Louis’ lips.

Harry’s chest is rising and falling heavily and Louis scoots forward so that he’s sitting directly over Harry’s crotch, straddling Harry’s hard dick between his spread legs before rocking back and forth on his hips to create friction. Harry’s back arches in response and his hips shoot up off the mattress, thrusting against Louis’ own aching dick, both men crying lowly because the contact is so good, hot flares of pleasure shooting from Louis’ groin and reverberating throughout his entire being.

Louis leans forward again, sucking on Harry’s left nipple and gently biting on the bud, pulling it away from his body and then letting go only to graze it with his sharp teeth again and again as he continues to roll his hips, grinding their cocks together. Harry slides his hands up Louis’ back, his fingers gripping the dips beneath Louis’ shoulder blades as he brokenly begs, “Open me up, Louis… Please, don’t make me wait any longer… please.”

“We’re only getting started, love,” Louis reprimands. He presses a wet kiss over Harry’s sternum and then moves down, lapping at Harry’s butterfly tattoo with soft flicks of his tongue, Harry shifting and quivering beneath him, his cock rock hard and throbbing against Louis’ own. “Gonna take care of you, darling.”

Louis scoots back further so that he’s kneeling over Harry’s thighs and their cocks are no longer touching, Harry letting out a frustrated groan at the loss of contact. Louis takes a moment then and looks Harry over. Harry’s hips are making tiny, involuntary movements that seek friction, and Louis draws in a breath because he’s going to be inside of Harry soon and the thought is almost too much to properly handle. Harry’s chest is shimmering with iridescent color, defining his swollen pecs, the contoured intersections that comprise Harry’s abdominal muscles, and the sharp dip of his V-lines. His pajama bottoms are slung low on his hips and they’re tented obscenely, Harry’s hard cock clearly visible beneath the thin fabric, his leaking head pushing the waistband away from his body and dripping a white, creamy bead onto his glistening skin. Louis places his hands on either side of Harry’s hips, clutching the waistband in his fingers and as he did on their first night together when they were just discovering each other’s bodies and were first exploring the ink of their complimentary tattoos, Louis seeks permission because this moment is sacred and he wants them both to be involved in every aspect of this long-sought union.

“Can I, Harry?” Louis asks, surprised by the heavy rasp in his voice. Harry nods and lifts his hips but doesn’t speak, he just watches transfixed as Louis carefully tugs at his pajama bottoms, sliding them down Harry’s long legs and then tossing them to the floor below. Harry is not wearing pants and his cock immediately springs free and Louis instantly leans over to lick at the head; he absolutely _has_ to feel the soft, warm weight of Harry’s cock in his mouth and he positively _needs_ to savor the sweet and salty flavor of precome, the gentle explorations of his tongue making Harry twitch and moan.

“You taste so good,” Louis mumbles, the mixture of Harry’s precome, sweat, and the salt of his skin overwhelming Louis’ senses. “You always taste so good, Harry.”

And he does.

Louis has traced his tongue all over Harry’s body since they’ve first met, and he’s licked up a lot of Harry’s come, yet it never ceases to surprise him just how much better _all_ of Harry tastes than anyone he has ever been with before. Louis always had keen olfactory senses and took pleasure in the unique scents and pheromones of his partners and further, he never minded the bitter taste of semen when he was on Earth. It wasn’t his favorite thing per se, but Louis was a team player and lapping up and swallowing his partner’s mess was just part of the sex he denied himself for so many years and besides, with the right person, it could be quite nice.

But with Harry… well with Harry, it’s an entirely new level of pleasure. There is something about the slightly musky tang of Harry’s sweat that drives Louis’ positively mad, and his skin always smells and tastes so good, whether he’s wearing vanilla scented lotion or not. And Harry’s come… Harry’s come tastes surprisingly sweet and Louis knows that he doesn’t respond to Harry’s scent and taste in the way he does simply because everything is pleasant and tastes so good in the Afterlife. It’s more than that. It’s about the fierce love they have for each other: a bond so deep that everything they give to each other, from the touch of their hands, to the slide of their tongues, to the taste of their releases, is beyond compare. Every little piece of himself Harry grants Louis is better than _anything_ Louis has ever experienced before him and the thought makes Louis’ heart clench in his chest, energy coursing through his body as he suckles hard on Harry’s head, causing Harry’s hips to writhe and jerk as Louis works him over.

“I… I eat a lot of fruit,” Harry suddenly grunts out, and Louis cannot help but laugh, Harry’s cock falling from his mouth. He immediately pushes himself up Harry’s body because he has to kiss him, his lips pressing sweetly into Harry’s, the kiss tender and playful.

“Well, let’s raise a glass to mangos and bananas then,” Louis teases and Harry lets out a breathy laugh in response, his dimple popping on his cheek and the intensity of the moment temporarily broken.

“Lube?” Louis questions and Harry immediately stretches his body, shooting his arm to the side and yanking open the nightstand drawer so harshly that it teeters on its lip, precariously close to falling.

“I’ve got it, love,” Louis grins and he leans over, pushing the drawer back a bit to avoid the risk of its contents spilling onto the floor.

The drawer is loaded with all kinds of things: notepads and artists’ pencils, meditation manuals and adult coloring books, there’s even a Rubik’s cube. Louis spots something in the corner of the drawer and an idea immediately springs to mind, but he’ll worry about that later, because right now he’s on a mission. In addition to arousal creams and two sex toys, which cause Louis to pause because he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how sex is so openly accepted and encouraged in the Afterlife, there are three bottles of lubricant and Louis chooses a simple water-based variety, deciding they can save the flavored warming and waterproof lubes for later. He wants their first time to be about nothing more than the two of them; they don’t need any extra bells and whistles. He continues rifling around inside the drawer for a minute more, searching for something else they’ll need when the realization strikes him that they won’t need _that something_ at all. He shuts the drawer and places the bottle of lube on the mattress, turning to Harry to marvel, “We don’t need a condom, Harry. I’ve never… I’ve never had sex with another man without a condom. You’re my first.”

Harry’s eyes go impossibly soft and he looks at Louis like Louis is the most precious and perfect thing he’s ever seen and he pulls him into his body, hugging him tightly.

“I get to feel you, Lou… all of you,” Harry answers, his voice full of awe.

“I get to feel you, too Haz. I just… I can’t believe it.”

“Louis,” Harry coos. “We’re so lucky to have each other, to have _found_ each other on this side. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too. So much,” Louis answers and then his lips once again meet Harry’s, but they don’t linger overly long before Louis is sliding back down Harry’s body.

Louis scoots back, sitting on his knees at the end of Harry’s long legs. He places kisses to the tops of Harry’s feet and then runs his fingertips up the undersides of his calves, causing Harry to giggle at the tickling sensation, the sound of Harry’s laughter intoxicating to Louis and encouraging him in his efforts. He peppers Harry’s shimmering knees and thighs with a series of wet kisses and when Louis gently commands, “Spread your legs for me, love,” Harry immediately complies, sliding his feet up the mattress and opening his legs wide, his knees relaxing to the sides. Louis settles between them, grazing his fingers up and down Harry’s taut muscles as he licks at the glimmering body lotion, the vanilla flavor sweet on his tongue. He pushes Harry’s left leg flat against the top of the mattress and begins sucking a lovebite into the inside of his thigh, biting down on the sensitive flesh halfway between Harry’s knee and his groin as he runs his hand back and forth across its surface. Harry groans loudly at the sensation, kicking his free leg sharply, his hips lifting off the mattress.

“Hold still, darling,” Louis requests. He grips Harry’s thigh with both hands and bites down again, sucking hard at Harry’s skin and causing Harry’s body to shudder. Louis alternates between nipping and sucking the tender area with dragging his tongue across the reddening flesh to soothe it, a purple bruise blooming in his wake.

He moves up Harry’s thigh then, nibbling along his leg and sliding his hand up to wrap around Harry’s dick, slowly running his hand up and down his shaft. Harry writhes and whimpers lowly at the contact, his slit shiny with precome. His breathing is rapid and he watches Louis intently as Louis lets go to sit up again. He reaches for the lube, making a show of flipping open the cap and holding the first two fingers of his right hand outward, squeezing a long stripe between his digits before leaning forward to lick a complimentary stripe along Harry’s cock.

“Please, Louis,” Harry mumbles, spreading his legs wider to signal his desire. Louis reaches up with his clean hand and grabs a pillow.

“Lift your hips, darling,” he softly commands, and Harry does as he’s told, Louis sliding the pillow beneath him to elevate Harry’s bum. He places his hand on the juncture between Harry’s groin and thigh, sliding his hand upwards and running his fingertips over his hip bone and then delicately tracing over the laurel tattoo on Harry’s left side. Harry’s body is dewy with a thin sheen of sweat, the warm glow of the candlelight illuminating the glimmering body lotion and casting flickering pinwheels of color across his skin and Louis has never seen anything so beautiful, and for a moment he simply stares, completely mesmerized.

“Please,” Harry repeats, his voice broken and quiet, the sound of his yearning sending a shudder through Louis’ body, pulling him out of his reverie. Louis immediately lunges forward, sucking a wet kiss onto the laurel tattoo, pressing his slicked-up fingers directly against Harry’s rim and then sliding them downwards over his taint to the base of his balls.

“Louis!” Harry shouts at the sudden, dueling sensations, and Louis sucks harder in response, stroking his fingers up and down over the slickened tissue, the lube making the glide smooth and easy. He presses gently, yet firmly, triggering that sensitive spot that prods the prostate from below and Harry’s arms shoot out on either side of his body, and he clutches the sheets in his hands hard, trying to keep his hips still for Louis but mostly failing in his attempts.

“I’m gonna come,” Harry whines, and Louis pulls off his skin with a loud pop, his fingers slowing their movements, but not easing the pressure against Harry’s taint.

Harry’s upper body is stretched tight, his extended arms elongating the muscles of his chest and abdomen, his cock hard and curved, the head an angry shade of purplish red, a sticky strand of precome bridging the cap between his slit and his belly. He looks so desperate and ready that Louis feels his own cock throb painfully at the sight of him. “Please, Louis. I’m going to come and I don’t want to until you’re inside of me. Open me up, I can’t wait any longer.”

“You can come, Harry,” Louis answers, his eyes burning into Harry’s as he begins to pick up the pace with his fingers again, massaging and stroking them faster and pressing down harder against Harry’s taint before sliding them up to Harry’s hole and fingering over his rim. Louis’ middle finger traces over the tight, pink circle of muscle, and Louis could cry, because it’s so perfect and soft, the ridges smooth beneath Louis’ fingertip… the way it flutters at his touch.

Louis lets out a heavy breath because Harry is so responsive and he feels so close to him, being allowed to explore his body so intimately. He just wants to give Harry everything he has in him. He’s desperate to convey to Harry the magnitude of his love and how special this moment is to him. Louis feels so thankful that he gets to experience this, his eyes practically hypnotized as he watches Harry pant and moan, Harry’s hips rocking up and down against the pillow in response to Louis’ dedicated efforts.

“I want you to come, darling,” Louis quietly encourages. “I plan on making you come more than once this afternoon. I promise, we’re only getting started.”

“L-Louis,” Harry grunts out and Louis circles Harry’s rim one more time before pushing his middle finger into the ring of muscle, breaching Harry’s hole and gliding his finger inside right up to the knuckle, and as he does so, he simultaneously slides his thumb along the slickened tissue of Harry’s taint, applying just the right amount of pressure as he moves the pad of his thumb over the soft tissue. Harry’s body clenches tightly around Louis’ finger and he lets out a loud cry and Louis watches transfixed as Harry releases, the muscles of his abdomen contracting as bands of white begin to spurt from his cock and paint his shimmering chest in pearly stripes that accent the iridescent glow.

It’s so intense and beautiful that Louis has to quickly slide his free hand into his pants and squeeze his own base to prevent himself from coming in response, his dick painfully hard and his heart threatening to beat out of his chest as the last droplets slowly drip from Harry’s dick. Louis immediately leans over and begins to lick up the trails of liquid, dragging his tongue across Harry’s abs and chest, stopping every now and again to swallow down the sweet, thick seed, all the while slowly fucking his finger in and out of Harry’s tight body, his thumb delicately grazing over the base of Harry’s balls.

“Oh god, Louis,” Harry murmurs, overwhelmed by the sight before him, his body vibrating with the continued stimulation. He slides his hands across the mattress and wraps them around Louis’ shoulders to pull Louis towards him. “Kiss me,” he begs and Louis pushes himself up, latching his mouth onto Harry’s and kissing him passionately, their lips repeatedly smacking and their tongues tangling, remnants of Harry’s release being passed between them as they puff heavy breaths into each other’s mouths, all the while Louis continuing to fuck Harry with his slick finger.

“Wanna touch you, Lou,” Harry pleads, his voice choppy from the way Louis continues to work him over. He reaches for Louis’ crotch, and Louis feels another hot pulse shoot through his cock, but he pulls back a bit, sliding his finger out of Harry and causing Harry to make a needy whining noise at the drag and the loss. Louis reaches over and grabs one of the hand towels off the nightstand, wiping the excess lube on the towel as he lies down beside Harry.

“I promise you can touch me, Haz,” he says between panting breaths. “Just… just let me take care of you first, yeah?”

“But this is about _us_ , Louis. I want to take care of _you_ , too,” Harry answers and he rolls onto his side to face Louis, gripping his arse cheek and stroking his warm fingers over Louis’ round bum. Louis’ eyes fall closed at the soft caress, but then he reaches down and places his own hand over Harry’s, stilling it.

“You _are_ taking care of me, Harry. Do you know how amazing it is for me to get to touch your body wherever I want? How incredible it feels to make you come? This _is_ about us, I promise. But right now, I just need to show you how much I love you. Okay?”

Louis feels a sudden, painful wave of sadness wash over him as he realizes why this is so important to him. Harry may have to carry the memory of this afternoon with him for eternity and Louis desperately needs to physically show him all of the love he has for him. He needs to make this experience spectacular for Harry, something he can look back on and remember from time to time and hopefully he can do so without the reminiscence of this afternoon breaking his heart. Maybe someday, Harry can reflect warmly over the way Louis took care of him and feel nothing but the love they shared. Louis needs to show Harry how much he means to him because it may be the last thing he gets to do in this realm. He wants nothing more than Harry’s hands on his own body, but he might only get to carry that memory for a few more hours. Taking care of Harry and making this moment about _him_ and giving him a memory he can treasure forever, is far more important.

Harry must sense Louis’ conflict because he reaches up and gently grips either side of Louis’ face.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” Harry whispers. “I promise, we’re going to make it.” He averts his eyes for a moment and clears his throat and when he once again meets Louis’ gaze his voice is strong and sure, as if he’s come to some sort of a conclusion and he’s absolutely resolute in his conviction. His eyes are clear and bright and never leave Louis’ as he adds, “We’re moving forward together, Louis.”

Louis doesn’t repeat the mantra; instead, he just nods his head weakly and forms a small smile before abruptly changing the subject, not wanting to dampen the mood. “Roll on to your stomach for me, darling.”

Harry stares at Louis for a moment, worry briefly flashing across his features before he tugs Louis in for a series of desperate, wet kisses, Harry brushing his thumbs over Louis’ cheeks, his fingers curling against his scalp.

“You’re not leaving me,” he states simply, and then he lets go and rolls over onto his belly without another word, wincing as his sensitive dick comes into contact with the silky fabric of the encased pillow beneath him.

Louis closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

 _Be in the moment_ , he reminds himself. _Be in the moment_.

He looks down at Harry and Harry’s firm bum is elevated: propped up by the pillow. The muscles of Harry’s broad shoulders and back are defined by flickering hues of iridescent color, the light cast by the candles illuminating Harry’s body in an almost celestial glow. His long, strong legs are extended and Louis gets to have all of him. Louis gets to make love to Harry and he’s not going to waste another second feeling sorry for himself when he has this gift before him. He’s going to be in the moment.

“So fucking gorgeous,” Louis absently comments as he sits beside Harry again, kneeling next to his bum and then leaning over to plant wet kisses across Harry’s shoulders and down his spine. He strokes his hands along the backs of Harry’s thighs and feels Harry’s skin erupt in goosebumps as his fingertips trail over the soft, short hairs that cover their muscled surface.

He scoots back then and grips Harry’s arse in his hands, kneading the firm flesh and then leaning over to lick and kiss Harry’s shimmering cheeks.

“Louis,” Harry pants and by the way that he grinds down against the pillow, Louis knows that he’s already starting to get aroused again. “Open me up. Please, Louis. I need you inside of me. I need you inside of me right now.”

 _Fucking hell_.

Harry’s words just _do_ something to Louis. His cock throbs and once again he squeezes his base, this time harder, because the desperation in Harry’s voice is making Louis wild with need.

Without prompting, Harry slides his knees up to his body and spreads his thighs, elevating his bum even higher and presenting himself to Louis, the tight pink ring of Harry’s rim now on display for Louis’ pleasure.

Louis wastes no time.

He climbs between Harry’s spread legs and grips Harry’s cheeks, dragging his thumbs down his open crack, Harry letting out a low moan when they slide over his rim.

“Gonna open you up proper, Haz. God, you’re so fucking beautiful. I can’t… I can’t believe this is finally happening,” Louis mutters, his voice trailing off at the end. He reaches over and picks up the bottle of lube and generously coats his index and middle finger and then ever so slowly he traces them over Harry’s rim, its surface already shiny and slick from Louis’ earlier efforts, the muscle clenching hungrily at Louis’ touch. Louis slides his free hand around Harry’s waist, between Harry’s hips and the pillow they rest upon, and then he wraps his fingers around Harry’s cock. It’s semi-hard and Harry hisses because he’s obviously still sensitive from his orgasm, but he fucks down into Louis’ fist nonetheless and after a couple tight pulls, he’s once again fully erect.

“Do you like this, darling? Are you comfortable?” Louis asks as he glides his thumb over Harry’s slit, his other hand still lazily tracing the puckered ring of muscle that comprises Harry’s entrance. Harry just nods his head and makes a low whining sound, rendered speechless by Louis’ ministrations. “I’m going to open you up like this, Harry,” Louis offers, his voice heavy and slow. “But when I make love to you, I’m going to need to turn you over so I can see your beautiful face, yeah?”

Harry turns his head toward Louis then and reaches out to him. Louis lets go of Harry’s dick and takes Harry’s hand in his own, intertwining their fingers and Harry pulls their joined hands upwards, stretching Louis arm so his hand is clutched close against his side and he tilts his head to press kisses to Louis’ knuckles.

“Please,” he whispers and Louis needs no more prompting; he once again slides his middle finger inside Harry’s body and Harry’s eyes fall shut and he pushes his bum back, driving Louis’ digit in even further, totally compressing it within velvety soft heat. Louis pumps his finger in and out slowly, watching the give and take as Harry’s rim expands and contracts to accommodate the intrusion, all the while Louis marveling that _this is actually real_.

Harry is still gripping Louis’ free hand firmly, and it isn’t long before he is begging, “More, Louis. I need more,” and Louis slides his middle finger almost completely out before positioning his index finger alongside it and then slowly glides the two fingers back in, Harry lifting his hips and uttering a soft cry in response.

Harry’s body is just so incredibly tight and Louis’ fingers are pressed impossibly close together, but it’s also so buttery soft and Louis realizes that very soon he’ll get to feel that silky soft heat around his cock and he lets out a low cry of his own, precome spurting from his neglected dick.

He starts to scissor his fingers then, slowly at first and then picking up the pace when Harry’s body relaxes around them. Harry’s head is still turned to the side and his eyes are squeezed shut, but he’s absently nodding and whispering, “Yesyesyesyesyes,” his words running together as Louis works his body open.

Louis stretches his fingers, instinctually seeking out the small bundle of nerves as he curves the tips downwards, and by the low, deep cry that Harry utters and the way that he pushes his hips up off the pillow, driving Louis’ fingers in further, Louis knows that he’s hit his spot.

“Right there, love?” Louis questions, and Harry pants a weak, “Yes… please,” in response, and Louis rewards Harry by massaging the spot again and again before sliding his fingers back and then squirting a bit more lube on them to add a third.

When Louis breaches Harry’s hole with three fingers, Harry clutches Louis’ hand so tightly that his fingers crunch together painfully, mimicking the way the clenching muscles of his arse compress the fingers Louis is driving in to him, Harry’s hips rocking up and down as he ruts against the pillow.

Once again, Louis begins to slowly stretch and scissor his fingers, countering the resistance of Harry’s muscles and working him open carefully because he desperately wants this to be good for him, wants nothing more than to fill Harry with pleasure, to fill him with his love.

Louis continues to fuck his fingers in and out, the muscles of Harry’s rim clenching firmly around them every time Louis draws them back, threatening to breach the precipice before he once again glides them smoothly forward pushing far inside Harry’s body. Harry pants out little gasping breaths at the way Louis is taking him apart, his hips rolling up and down in tandem with Louis’ movements, deep moans escaping his lips every time Louis rubs over his prostate.

“M’ready, Lou,” Harry grunts, and Louis leans over and flicks his tongue over Harry’s stretched hole, lathing it alongside his fingers, which are still driving in and out, steady and sure. Harry makes a desperate, whimpering sound and when he again speaks, his voice is positively wrecked. “Please, Louis. Please,” he groans. “Make love to me… need you right now.”

Louis sits upright and watches transfixed as he carefully withdraws his fingers, Harry gasping and his rim quivering at the loss. He moves from between Harry’s legs to his side, his own voice shaky with want as he gently commands, “Roll over for me, love. Need to look at you.”

Harry lets go of Louis’ hand and immediately does as he’s told, gripping the pillow he was resting his hips on and tossing it to the side as he flips over, his body now supine on the mattress, his face full of longing as he stares at Louis. He spreads his legs and Louis slots his body between them, resting his hands on either side of Harry’s chest and propping himself up so that he hovers over him.

The two look at each other for a long moment, both appreciating what this means: how they will finally, _finally_ be joined as one.

“Make love to me, Louis,” Harry repeats and Louis draws in a deep breath and nods his head, brushing his lips softly against Harry’s before pushing himself upright so that he’s sitting on his knees.

Harry reaches up and grips the waistband of Louis’ pants and he doesn’t ask for permission, he just takes what he wants: yanking them down to Louis’ knees so that his cock springs free of the material that has held it restrained for far too long, and Louis’ shaft immediately slaps against his belly. Louis pushes his pants the rest of the way off, throwing them over the side of the bed, and as he does so, Harry fumbles for the lubricant and squirts a dollop into his hand before wrapping his slick palm around Louis’ dick.

Louis throws his head back, his lungs punching out a surprised breath at Harry’s touch. He’s so fucking hard he doesn’t think that he can take it and Harry’s large, warm hand combined with the cool, lubricating gel are creating contrasting sensations through Louis’ neglected prick and making him feel dizzy. He _needs_ to be inside of Harry. He needs to be inside of him right now.

Seeming to read Louis’ mind, Harry spreads his legs wider, sliding his feet up the mattress and angling his hips ever so slightly. Louis reaches between his legs, his fingers wrapping over Harry’s where they hold on to Louis’ dick.

“Are you ready, darling?” Louis asks, as he leans forward, supporting his upper body on one hand that he rests beside Harry’s shoulder. Harry nods his head, his eyes searching Louis’ face as he pulls Louis’ cock downward, directing it toward his hole. “I love you… so much, Harry,” Louis whispers, completely overwhelmed. Harry’s lips turn up in the sweetest smile.

“Love _you_ so much, Lou,” Harry answers. “Kiss me,” he adds softly, and Louis inches forward latching their mouths together, his hand tightening around Harry’s as they both press the head of his cock against Harry’s rim, and when Louis’ slit rubs against the ribbed tissue of Harry’s entrance, Louis feels an overwhelming flash of pleasure. It’s so bright and intense: like the sudden bursting flame of a matchstick strike, and Louis has to pull back a bit at first, afraid that he very well may combust, both he and Harry gasping loudly at the contact.

They stare at each other for a moment and Louis presses forward again, and once again as their bodies meet, Louis is consumed by sensations that are far more pleasurable than anything he’s ever known. He breathes heavily, trying to regain his bearings and then pushes ahead, driving the head of his cock through the tight ring of muscle and thrusting it smoothly inside.

It’s… it’s so much.

“Oh… Oh, Harry,” Louis grunts out against Harry’s lips, his fingers drumming up and down over Harry’s own fingers, which continue to hold on to Louis’ shaft as their bodies lay motionless, suspended in the moment. “D-do you feel it, darling?” Louis asks, not even sure what ‘it’ is, but certain it’s something mere mortals on Earth could never hope to understand.

Just the head of his cock is inside Harry and Louis has never experienced anything so indescribably… indescribable… in his entire existence. It’s an unimaginable bliss: warm, shimmering glints of pleasure bursting from the head of his dick and tickling over his shaft. The sensation magnifies in intensity at Louis’ root, setting off sparkling waves that crash throughout his body, filling him with an ecstasy that he never dreamed possible. The feeling is so true and pure that it’s almost jarring and Louis cannot believe that only the head of his cock is inside of Harry’s tight, fit body, and it already is this intense. Louis is certain without a doubt that this union is a miracle.

 _This is heaven_.

Harry’s eyes are wet and his pupils are blown, but they go wide in recognition of Louis’ question. He opens and closes his mouth and then nods his head, drawing in another sharp breath as he finally manages to speak. “I feel it, Lou,” he answers, his voice raspy and broken. “I feel it and I’ve _never_ felt anything like it before. You’re my heaven, Louis,” he whispers, and a tear spills out of the corner of his eye, rolling across the side of his face and disappearing into a chestnut curl. He lifts his legs then and wraps them behind Louis, his thighs bracketing Louis’ hips, his feet pressing into Louis’ bum. “You’re my heaven,” he repeats, and then he presses his heels against Louis’ arse, driving him in a bit further, both men crying out as Harry’s walls slowly stretch to welcome him.

Louis is nearly two inches deep now, his body thrumming with energy, his heart racing in his chest. It’s like the love he feels for Harry is physically manifesting itself and it’s the most incredible thing he’s ever experienced. Louis closes his eyes and once again tries to calm down a bit because it’s all so much. He draws in a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth and he begins to relax and allow himself to settle into the _feeling_ , because it’s so, so brilliant and he’s going to give in to it fully.

“I feel it, too,” Harry moans, as if reading Louis’ mind. “It’s so much…”

Louis pushes forward a bit more, his cock engulfed by the relentlessly tight heat of Harry’s body, and yet, his walls are so silken and smooth and Louis wants to stay buried inside of him forever.

"You’re mine,” Louis mutters, his words slurred like he’s drunk. “You’re mine, always,” he groans, because in this very moment he wants nothing more than to claim Harry for his own, regardless of what happens a few hours in the future when their verdicts are read. For right now, Harry belongs to Louis and Louis wholly belongs to him.

“I’m yours. I’m yours. I’ll always be yours,” Harry answers, his voice tapering off to barely a whisper at the end.

Harry releases his hand, now barely gripping Louis’ base, just as Louis does the same, the two working seamlessly in unspoken synchronization, and they immediately clutch both their hands together, Harry folding his arms back so that their laced fingers rest atop the mattress on either side of his head.

“Sweetheart,” Harry cries lowly and he bites his bottom lip. Louis immediately leans in, dancing his tongue over Harry’s mouth and licking along the seam before pushing inside, the kiss heady and raw and everything Louis needs. He drives his hips forward, burying his cock deeper as Harry squeezes his thighs around him, digging his heels in to Louis’ arse to help him along.

Louis movements are slow and sure, Harry’s walls engulfing his cock and creating just the perfect resistance to Louis’ efforts and it’s all so strange, because Louis no longer feels like he’s on the verge of coming. Rather, it’s as he’s garnered a bit of self-control and his body just _knows_ that he needs _more_ and that he needs to give Harry _more_ and there is no way Louis will even be able to release until this union is fully consummated.

“You’re a miracle, Harry,” Louis offers, his voice reverent. “You’re my miracle. This moment… You… You’re what I lived and died for. Everything I’ve ever known has brought me to this moment.”

“Louis,” Harry cries. “Love you so much.”

Louis closes his eyes and presses forward until he finally bottoms out; his hips flush against Harry’s arse.

Everything goes still.

Louis stares into Harry’s eyes and they’re so warm and loving and Louis wants to get lost in them forever and Harry is staring back at him like he wants nothing more than the same exact thing. Louis tilts his head and nuzzles his nose against Harry’s cheek and then he slowly ghosts his lips over Harry’s mouth and although Louis is vaguely aware that there is music playing quietly in the background, the only sounds he registers are the pounding of his heart in his chest and the heavy panting of his and Harry’s breaths.

Harry raises his hips just a fraction and the angle change drives Louis in just a bit deeper if that’s even possible, and Louis knows that Harry is ready for him; he knows that he can start to move and once again, it’s as if Harry is reading Louis’ mind because he nods his head, indicating his desire.

Louis circles his hips slowly at first and he and Harry both moan because the initial match strike that was Louis breaching Harry’s entrance has now ignited into sizzling sparklers: crackling flashes of pleasure humming through Louis’ body and seeming to radiate all around both of them. By the way that Harry lets out a low, filthy cry, Louis is certain he feels the same way.

Harry’s body is tight; _he’s_ _so fucking tight_. But as Louis continues his movements, he feels Harry’s walls slowly begin to ease to accommodate him and he’s able to pick up the pace a bit, moving his hips round and round before finally sliding back just a fraction and then thrusting forward, Harry’s breath hitching at the sensation.

“More,” he mumbles, and Louis pulls back a little further this time, gliding back an inch or so and then pushing forward to once again fill Harry up. They start to build a rhythm then and it’s like their bodies are working perfectly in unison: Louis rocking backwards and Harry’s hips lifting slightly to chase him, and as Louis drives forward, it’s like Harry’s body _pulls_ him in, drawing him so deep and tight that Louis is rendered breathless.

With each pull and push of Louis’ cock inside Harry’s body, Louis withdraws back incrementally further and before long, he’s lifting his hips to pull out almost completely before thrusting back smoothly inside, Harry squeezing his calves and digging his heels into Louis’ bum a little harder with each strike, hot pleasure passing between them.

 _It’s never, ever been like this_ , Louis thinks to himself, and Harry immediately groans “Never,” as if he’s actually _hearing_ Louis’ thoughts and Louis lets out a surprised gasp.

“Are you reading my mind, love?” Louis asks, only half-joking, his voice heavy and broken as he once again pulls back and then drives forward, his cock at one moment completely encompassed in slick, velvet heat, and the next his shaft withdrawn nearly all the way to the base of his head, struck with the cool air of the room and the loss of full contact making Louis desperate to get back into the hot, tight space of Harry’s body.

Harry makes a soft mewling sound.

“I just feel… I feel…” Harry answers, struggling to find the right words.

“Connected?” Louis offers and Harry nods his head and then Louis _knows_ Harry doesn’t say the next word out loud because his lips don’t even move, but yet it’s like he still _hears_ Harry clear as day say, “Literally.”

Harry looks down between their bodies where they are joined as Louis drives his cock in and out and Louis’ own eyes follow, and then slowly they both raise their heads and their eyes once again meet. Harry’s mouth splits into a playful grin and both men let out breathy little laughs at the joke.

“Literally, yeah,” Louis agrees.

But then the magnitude of what just happened hits him and Louis stills his movements. “H-Harry, were you _thinking_ ‘literally,’ just now?” Louis asks, his voice choppy and breathless. “Because honestly, I don’t think you said it out loud.”

Harry’s brow furrows, his expression confused at first before his eyes go positively doe-eyed in recognition and he whispers, “I didn’t say it out loud,” and then he lets out a watery gasp, Louis crashing his lips into Harry’s because this union is so much more than he ever thought possible, even though he was quite certain from the start that it would be the greatest experience he’s ever known.

 _Telepathic_ , Louis thinks, and suddenly it’s like a door to understanding has been unlocked and he just _gets_ what all the fuss about having a soul mate is about. It’s so much more than simply being in love. Having a soul mate is the ultimate connection and it’s as if he and Harry actually share pieces of each other’s soul: they’re _that_ bonded, their union is _that_ sacred. He doesn’t know if this wordless means of communication is just a temporary thing only possible when they’re making love, or if it’s something they’ll grow into and be able to do all the time if they move forward together, but for now, Louis just tries to be in the moment and focus on all that this perfect connection with Harry means.

 _It means everything_.

“Everything,” Harry whispers, and all Louis can do is breathe out, “Love you,” in response, because he’s completely undone. Both men stare at each other for another moment and then Louis begins to move his hips again, and he doesn’t even realize he’s crying, doesn’t know how tangled up in emotions he is until he feels the tickle of a tear that has slipped from the inside corner of his eye, trailing down the side of his nose before he sees it splashing onto Harry’s cheekbone where it mingles with a thick tear spilling from Harry’s own eye and sliding down his cheek.

“You’re my heaven, Louis,” Harry declares, not for the first time.

“You’re my miracle,” Louis replies.

Louis starts to pump his hips with more purpose and force, although he only slightly picks up his speed; he wants to relish this moment and make it perfect for Harry, after all. But he does begin to experiment with different angles, thrusting downward to hear the way it makes Harry cry lowly, and tilting his hips just so to elicit a long whine as he drives the head of his cock into Harry’s spot.

“There, there, there,” Harry silently begs, Louis once again hearing the words in his mind, as opposed to through his ears. Harry lets go of Louis’ hands only to wrap them around Louis’ waist, his fingertips radiating heat as he digs them into Louis’ hips. He drops his feet to the mattress and pushes his own hips up to make the target an easier reach for Louis and Louis immediately obliges, adjusting the angle of his own hips perfectly and then repeatedly thrusting forward and pulling back, the head of his dick pounding against Harry’s prostate again and again until Harry is practically screaming, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” the sound of his desperation and pleasure bouncing off the walls of the bedroom suite and reverberating between their bodies, spurring Louis on.

 _It feels so fucking good_.

Not that “good” could even remotely describe the sensations Louis experiences each time his cock thrusts forward and is engulfed by Harry’s hot, silken walls, or the way those same walls clamp around him like a slick vice, pulling him in and fighting to keep him there, buried deep inside.

“Good” could never adequately convey the way that bursting glints of pleasure zip along Louis cock and shoot all the way up his spine with each movement forward, or how those same sparks race downward along the exact path each time Louis pulls back, his entire being quivering with the anticipation of the next thrust.

“Good” isn’t enough to explain the way that Louis can feel the blood coursing through his veins, the way his skin is tingling with a quietly humming electricity, the way he feels so brilliantly _alive_ in this moment: positively consumed with a life-force and energy he never knew on Earth.

But most of all, it’s impossible for “good” to begin to put into words the way Louis is so thoroughly one with Harry, the way they’re silently communicating, the way they seem to be sharing the same breath, how Louis can practically feel Harry’s heart beating in his own chest. They’re completely connected: mind, body, and spirit, and Louis is so desperately in love with his soul mate and he’s sharing that love with him and Louis knows this is exactly as it was always meant to be. It’s so far beyond anything Louis could ever articulate; they’re in love and they’re making love and this union is the personification of all the love that flows between them. Louis never dreamed he could experience something so perfect and so true as the way he feels as he slides back and then pushes forward, fucking into Harry like it’s the only purpose of his existence.

It’s simply incomprehensible how amazing “good” really is.

Harry has calmed down a bit, now. He’s no longer half-shouting, but rather, he’s just groaning lowly. Louis’ eyes rake over him then, and his cock pulses and his heart aches at the way Harry looks as his body is continuously rocked backwards toward the head of the bed by Louis’ thrusts.

Harry’s head rests on a pillow and his hair is a tangle of loose curls, his neck slightly arched, displaying a creamy column of skin that makes Louis’ mouth water. Louis just has to lean over and drag his tongue up Harry’s neck, licking and kissing his way up the warm flesh, his hips never faltering in their movements. Harry tilts his head and makes a soft pleading sound and Louis clamps his mouth over the sensitive skin just below Harry’s ear, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, Harry moaning and writhing beneath him. Harry wraps his hands behind Louis’ back then, running his fingers up and down Louis’ spine, his dull fingernails clawing and scratching into Louis’ skin, the sensation the perfect, exquisite blend of pleasure and pain.

Louis pulls back and looks at Harry. His eyes are heavily hooded and his lips are shiny and parted. He looks positively stoned as he stares at Louis and Louis knows exactly how he feels, because he feels it too. It’s as if the tandem movements of his and Harry’s body are sending him off to an entirely new plane of existence where everything is swirling beams of color, thrumming energy and perfect, sexual bliss. His body is positively vibrating with pleasure and he’s starting to get close; he knows he’s going to come soon.

“Touch me,” Harry begs, and Louis immediately slides his hand between his and Harry’s joined bodies, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s cock and then slowly tugging upwards in time to the movement of his thrusts. Harry’s head falls to the side and he closes his eyes and makes a needy, groaning sound. Louis’ fingers still are a little slick from the lube he used to open Harry and so the glide along Harry’s shaft is easy, with just the right amount of drag on each down stroke.

“So close, Lou,” Harry pants, and Louis starts to pick up the pace then, thrusting harder and then pulling back so far that the head of his dick almost slips out of Harry completely and Harry lets out a frustrated whine at the loss and raises his upper body, the muscles of his stomach contracting as he slides his hands from Louis’ back to his arse, gripping Louis’ cheeks and yanking him forward, Louis slamming back into Harry’s body sharply, both men letting out loud cries at the sensation.

Louis feels the muscles in his groin begin to coil tightly and he knows he’s just as on edge as Harry; his body is beginning to tense, the ringing sensation that has been vibrating across his skin intensifies, the synapses in his nerve cells igniting and threatening to explode.

He changes up his movements, slows his thrusts and instead begins rolling his hips, the muscles in his thighs and arse burning, but the undulating currents of sparkling electricity that are washing over him with every tight glide of his cock more than make up for the ache.

“Louis,” Harry groans. “You feel so… feel so good, Lou.” He closes his eyes and bites his lip, breathily adding, “Good isn’t enough, there are no words that are enough,” and Louis knows exactly what Harry means.

Louis’ movements are becoming less measured now. They’re both so close and Louis knows he won’t be able to hold out much longer. Harry squeezes Louis’ cheeks hard and begins to mumble incoherently, rolling his head from side to side and making shallow thrusting movements of his own: fucking his cock into Louis’ fist while Louis repeatedly drives his own cock into Harry’s arse. Louis keeps up the pace with his hips, rolling into Harry again and again as his hand strokes Harry’s dick, wrapping over his head and fingering his slit before sliding back down to repeat the process. Louis knows they’re nearing their peaks and he wants to come with Harry, but before the thought fully registers he begins to lose all semblance of control, his movements becoming erratic, and he starts to get lightheaded as his blood rushes to his cock, making it fuller, harder.

“Need to come with you, darling,” Louis murmurs, his voice completely shattered as he looks into Harry’s eyes. Harry nods his head weakly, but he doesn’t speak, he just parts his lips wider, silently begging for a kiss and Louis leans forward, slotting his mouth against Harry’s and despite the building pace of his hips and his hand; Louis kisses Harry gentle and slow. He cards his free hand through Harry’s curls, twisting them around his fingertips as his lips softly smack against Harry’s repeatedly, his tongue unfurling into his mouth so that their bodies are joined in every way possible. It’s the most passionate kiss Louis has ever known, the most intimate moment in the whole of his existence.

“Lou,” Harry groans as Louis finally breaks the kiss. Harry’s eyes are glassy, but so fucking green. He stares up at Louis and then draws in a sharp breath and squeezes his eyes closed. He scrunches his nose and mouth and then his body goes suddenly still and rigid before shuddering fiercely, his dick rock hard in Louis’ hand.

“Louis!” Harry shouts and then his mouth falls open and he comes.

He lets out a long, low cry as he releases, trails of white liquid splattering across his belly and onto Louis’ as Louis continues to fuck into him over and over and over again. With each pulse of come that unfurls from the head of Harry’s cock, his arse clenches impossibly tight around Louis’ dick, and Louis doesn’t even have the chance to say a word, cannot even comment on the way that Harry is so gorgeous as he climaxes, or how incredible this moment is, because right then, his own orgasm hits: his body exploding in pleasure as he shoots thick streams of come that fill Harry up deep inside, his mind blanking and stars flashing before his eyes as he’s momentarily lost in a state of total euphoria.

Harry slides his hands up Louis’ back and holds on to him tightly, his fingertips clutching onto the soft flesh beneath Louis’ shoulder blades as they ride out their orgasms together, Louis continuing the pace of his rolling hips before slowing to a gentle rocking motion, and then at last, when they’re both completely spent, stilling completely.

Harry’s whole body is trembling and it takes Louis a moment to realize it, but he’s shaking too. He lets go of Harry’s dick and then collapses on top of him, immediately rolling onto his side and dragging Harry with him so that they are completely entangled: pressed up against each other with no space between them, Harry’s legs wrapped around Louis’ waist and Louis’ cock still buried deep inside Harry’s arse. Their chests are rising and falling rapidly and Louis blinks slowly, he’s completely lightheaded, but he begins peppering kisses all along Harry’s jaw line, across his cheeks and into his hair.

“Love you so much,” Louis whispers, his voice throaty and breaking with emotion.

Harry burrows against Louis, nuzzling his nose into Louis’ neck and wrapping his arms tightly around Louis’ back, hugging him for all he’s worth.

“Louis,” Harry answers, and he draws in a jagged breath. “Love you, Lou. Love you more than anything.”

He looks up at Louis then and Louis could cry because Harry’s cheeks are deeply flushed, his eyes wide and glassy, and his lips are bright pink and swollen from all of the kissing. He’s by far the most beautiful thing Louis has ever laid his eyes on and Louis can’t believe this moment is real. It’s an entirely new experience: making love with his soul mate, and Louis doesn’t know if he’ll ever come down from this high, but the one thing he does know is that he wants to kiss Harry forever; he wants to touch him and hold him and never let him go. Harry tilts his head, seeking Louis’ lips, and Louis presses his mouth against his, their lips barely brushing, both men too exhausted to do much more, but nonetheless desperate to make the moment last.

“Louis, that was…” Harry starts, but then he pauses. He lets out a wry little laugh and shakes his head, clearly unable to articulate his thoughts.

“There are no words,” Louis replies and Harry nods in agreement.

“No words, Lou. No words at all.”

They lay there, tightly entwined, staring at each other and trying to catch their breaths and then finally, they start to come down. Louis reaches beneath their bodies and grabs his base to pull out, but Harry squeezes his thighs tight, stilling Louis’ movements.

“Stay inside me, just another minute,” Harry says, his voice pleading. “Need to feel you.” Louis closes his eyes and strokes his fingers through Harry’s hair. He feels a painful throb in his chest because suddenly everything seems so fleeting, but once again he pushes his worry aside in favor of being in the moment.

“Of course, love,” Louis replies softly. “I want to feel you too, darling. I could stay like this forever.”

“You’re my soul mate,” Harry replies, his voice still shaky. “We’re going to be together forever, Louis. I promise. This afternoon is just the start.”

“This is just the start,” Louis repeats quietly, wanting desperately to believe it, and Harry nods his head, his expression relieved at Louis’ declaration.

They continue to stare at each other dopily, Louis completely caught up in a haze of love and longing, his body tired and his muscles satisfyingly sore. He can feel his cock go completely soft and he finally pulls out and rolls away from Harry just long enough to reach for a fresh hand towel from the nightstand and he uses it to gently wipe away the sticky, drying come from his and Harry’s torsos. Harry rolls onto his back and Louis presses kisses down Harry’s sternum and then he carefully slides the towel between Harry’s legs and over his bum, wiping away his own come that is now trickling from Harry’s arse.

“We’re a bit of a mess, aren’t we, darling?” Louis teases, and Harry bites back a grin.

“Just a bit, yeah,” he agrees.

“Are you sore?” Louis asks, his voice gentle and concerned. He slots his body alongside Harry’s, throwing the towel to the side and then resting on his elbow, his free hand cupping Harry’s jaw before he slides his hand back to tangle his fingers in Harry’s curls, his thumb grazing over his cheek. Harry smiles shyly.

“A little, but in the best way possible,” and Louis knows what Harry means, the dull ache after bottoming always a pleasant reminder of what came before. “You were amazing. Do you know that?” Harry asks. He pushes Louis onto his back so that he can curl up on his chest and Louis immediately wraps his arms around him and holds him close.

“You weren’t so bad yourself, Haz,” he replies. But then he immediately changes his tact, the magnitude of the moment washing over him and his voice reverential and thick with emotion when he adds, “You were incredible, actually. Your body… the way it felt to be inside of you… Just… just everything, really. I’ve never felt anything like that before, Harry. I never imagined something so pure and so wonderful could be possible.”

“Loooouis,” Harry hums, dragging out Louis’ name, as is his habit whenever Louis utters something Harry deems impossibly sweet. “We’re going to get to share this forever, Lou. I feel like I finally understand why everyone looks at us like we’re so lucky and special; because we _are_ so lucky and special.” Harry pushes himself up a bit, resting his forearm on Louis’ chest and then hooking his chin over it so that he can look Louis in the eyes, his voice full of awe when he adds, “I can’t believe I found you, Louis. You’re my soul mate and I know why that’s such a miracle now. You keep telling me that I’m your miracle, but you, Louis… you’re mine.”

Louis’ eyes go soft and he lets Harry’s words sink in, because it’s all so much, this love they share, and Louis wants nothing more than to stay frozen in this moment forever. He feels so safe and content and so utterly head over heels and it’s better than anything he could have ever dreamed for himself when he was on Earth. The niggling thought that he may not get to experience this joy for more than a few more hours is ever present, but for now, Louis chooses to be happy.

“We’re each other's miracles, then,” Louis grins and Harry nods his head in agreement before leaning forward and pecking a series of quick kisses to Louis’ lips. “What shall we do now, love?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow suggestively, because it’s only been a few minutes since he was inside the inviting warmth of Harry’s body and he’s already contemplating another round.

Just then, Harry’s stomach growls loudly, catching both men off guard and they burst out laughing.

“Maybe we could order some room service, yeah?” Louis laughs, and he gently pokes Harry in the stomach. “Sounds like you’ve worked up a bit of an appetite, darling.” But before Harry can even respond, Louis’ stomach makes the same loud churning noise and Harry immediately sits up and prods at Louis’ belly in return.

“Seems like I’m not the only one,” he grins.

“Well, to be fair we barely ate breakfast this morning, but yeah… I think we definitely expended some energy this afternoon,” Louis replies. He pulls Harry in then and slots his lips against his and the two kiss lazily, Louis’ hands stroking up and down Harry’s sides, Harry’s own fingers tracing over Louis’ collarbone before Harry lowers his hand and starts to play with Louis’ nipple. Louis immediately draws in a sharp breath at the sensation. “Careful, darling. You’re going to make me hard again.”

“Don’t see how that’s a bad thing,” Harry answers, and then he leans over and licks over the round bud, the slow glide of his wet, warm tongue shooting straight to Louis’ still-sensitive dick. But then Louis’ stomach rumbles again, this time louder than before and Harry grins wickedly, gently biting the nub before letting go and sitting upright. “There’s a menu in the nightstand,” he says matter-of-factly, tilting his chin in the direction of the bedside table. “Maybe order us up something light, yeah? I plan on riding you this afternoon and I don’t want anything too heavy on my stomach.”

Louis has to close his eyes because _fucking hell_. Harry grins and pecks a quick kiss to Louis’ lips, obviously proud of himself.

“I’m gonna have a wee, and then when I get back, I have a surprise for you.”

“You’ve got a surprise for me?” Louis repeats, phrasing it as a question more so than a statement. He reaches over and pulls open the nightstand drawer to look for the room service menu while Harry climbs out of bed.

“I do,” Harry answers. “I think you’re going to like it.” He turns then and as he walks toward the en suite, Louis can’t help but stare, because even in the low light of the hotel room, Harry’s body is stunning. He’s all long limbs and toned muscles and Louis feels a surge of desire because Harry’s arse looks absolutely exceptional. It’s small and taut and the center of his crack is red from Louis’ cock rubbing against the inside of his cheeks during their love-making, and best of all, there is just the slightest trace of Louis’ come shining on the inside of Harry’s thigh and Louis thinks its one of the sexiest things he’s ever seen.

“Hurry back,” he groans dramatically.

Harry waves his hand in the air, dismissively. “Order us lunch, you sex monster,” he answers, laughter in his voice, and then he disappears into the en suite.

Louis calls room service and orders a fruit platter, a variety of slider sandwiches, some salty snacks, and a pot of tea, and then right before hanging up, he adds a couple extra items to the order, asking if the last two items can be delivered later in the afternoon. Harry returns from the en suite and he’s obviously freshened up a bit, his skin moist and the shimmering body lotion all but washed away. As Harry slips into his pajama bottoms, Louis heads to the en suite to have a wee and do a little freshening up of his own, and just like when he first stepped into Harry’s hotel suite, Louis’ jaw drops open when he sees the luxury amenities awaiting him.

Harry’s en suite is easily quadruple the size of Louis’ bathroom. The floor is polished checkered marble tile, the accents the same sea blue, gold, and black that are featured throughout Harry’s suite. There’s a huge walk-in shower on one wall and beside that sits a massive Jacuzzi tub, that Louis swears could comfortably seat a small army of people. The wall behind the tub is mirrored and there is a sizable marble ledge that runs along the back of the tub that Louis thinks will easily accommodate the items he’s ordered from room service to be delivered later. On the wall opposite the tub is a long countertop featuring two, marble sinks, with a mirror boasting an inlaid tile border encompassing the entire wall from the countertop to the ceiling. Like Louis’ en suite, Harry’s bathroom is fully stocked with a variety of toiletries, lotions and other personal goods that are neatly arranged on built-in shelves on either end of the countertop.

After taking in the surroundings for a moment, Louis walks to the toilet closet to use the loo and is not at all surprised to find the elegantly appointed space houses both a toilet and a bidet. He takes advantage of both.

After, he washes up in front of the sinks, fixes his hair, and then helps himself to one of the extra toothbrushes provided for hotel guests, brushing his teeth even though he knows that lunch will be delivered at any moment.

Louis takes a long look in the mirror then, and he feels glad of what he sees. He looks good; his eyes are bright and clear, despite the morning spent crying during his Review and his skin is lightly tanned and smooth, his fringe soft and swept to the side. But it’s so much more than his physical appearance, which in fact, is but a small part of why Louis is pleased by his reflection. What truly makes Louis glad when he peers at the mirror is that the person he sees reflected back looks genuinely happy in a way that Louis never quite achieved when he was on Earth. Louis is deeply worried about his verdict, there’s no denying that, but it’s like the last piece of the puzzle of his relationship with Harry has been slipped into place and everything is right and good and just as it should be. He’s desperately in love and it shows in his appearance. In this moment, having just experienced the most intimate and gratifying encounter he’s ever known, Louis is wholly content.

_But for how long?_

_Fuck._

_Be in the moment, Tommo._

Louis hates this. He hates that he can be basking in the joy of being with Harry one moment and then the very next he is once again plunged into a pool of doubt and despair. It’s like his mind won’t relax long enough to give him a proper break, to let him fully enjoy –

“Louis,” Harry calls from the bedroom, interrupting Louis’ thoughts. “Are you going to spend the entire afternoon in there?”

“Coming darling,” Louis answers. He looks back up at his reflection in the mirror and pauses.

 _Go be in the moment_ , he tells himself, and then he quickly exits the en suite to greet his awaiting boy.

Harry has blown out the candles and drawn back the curtains in the bedroom, letting in the natural afternoon sunshine and the room is bathed in warm, welcoming light. He holds out his hand to Louis.

“Sorry, love,” Louis offers as Harry pulls him in to his arms. “That’s a massive loo. I almost got lost in there.”

“Did you see the tub, Louis?” Harry asks, his voice excited.

“Did I see it?” Louis replies in faux surprise. He pinches Harry’s hip playfully. “I couldn’t miss it! You could hold the Olympic swim trials in that tub, Haz. It’s really ridiculous.”

Harry grins and ducks his head and Louis knows that he’s embarrassed by the grandeur of his suite, but he shouldn’t be because Harry obviously lived a life that merited such rewards, and even if he hadn’t, Louis wants him to have nothing but the absolute best of everything.

“As long as it’s big enough for you and me, Louis. That’s all I care about,” Harry says, and then he runs his hand down Louis’ back and squeezes his bum hard, Louis letting out a surprised squeal in response. “You’ll be staying in this state of undress for lunch, I hope?” Harry questions, and then leans over and plants a series of wet little kisses along Louis’ shoulder.

“Actually, I was hoping I could borrow a pair of pajama bottoms?” Louis asks. “Not sure I want to eat lunch in the buff.”

“I think watching you eat lunch in the buff would be about the best thing ever,” Harry replies, his fingers slowly grazing through the soft trail of hair that leads from Louis’ navel to his cock, his touch barely-there, but enough to cause Louis’ heart to beat a little faster in his chest and his dick to stir.

“And you called me a ‘sex monster’,” Louis says with a laugh, swatting Harry’s hand away so that he doesn’t get hard again before their lunch has even arrived. “The pajama bottoms, Harold,” Louis prompts, raising an eyebrow.

Harry grins and walks over to the tall bureau. “I’ve barely worn any of the clothes left for me in this suite. I’m sure to have another pair.” He opens the middle draw and pulls out a pair of soft white pajama bottoms, exactly like the ones he is currently wearing and he hands them to Louis, pinching his bottom lip as he looks his partner over. “Might be a bit long on you, love,” he says, not the slightest hint of mockery about Louis’ compact stature evident in his tone. Louis finds Harry’s lack of sarcasm utterly endearing because despite his average height, Louis’ petite frame is often a target for playful ridicule and he has heard jokes about how “small” he is from every man he’s ever been with, as well as from Eleanor.

“Well, your beautiful legs _are_ longer than mine, Haz,” he offers, stepping into the trousers and pulling them up his own legs so that the waistband is slung low over his hips. Like all the garments in Judgment City, the bottoms are extremely comfortable: the material is exceptionally soft and they’re loose fitting down Louis’ legs and calves. But because the pajama bottoms were made expressly to fit Harry – who has a smaller waist and arse and longer legs than Louis – they’re form-fitting around Louis’ bum and are indeed several inches too long. Harry immediately drops to his knees and rolls up Louis’ cuffs, folding them over and pegging them so they fit snugly around Louis’ ankles.

Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how well Harry takes care of him.

“You’re legs are perfect, Lou,” Harry says, his voice light and happy, and he runs his hands up the back of Louis calves before standing and pulling him into his arms. “And we fit perfectly together,” he adds quietly and then he gently sways their bodies back and forth, hugging Louis tightly. Louis lays his head on Harry’s chest and Harry rests his chin over Louis’ shoulder and Louis feels so warm and safe and then Harry once again speaks, “Holy hell, your arse in my trousers, Lou! I wish you could see it from above. It’s bloody perfect.” Louis barks a surprised laugh and playfully slaps Harry on the shoulder.

“Don’t tease!” Louis reprimands and Harry pulls back and shakes his head.

“I’m not teasing, Louis.” Harry spins Louis around so he can get a look at his backside and then he paws at Louis’ bum with his big, warm hands. “You’re arse is a fucking miracle, sweetheart.” He drags his thumbs down Louis’ crack. Louis isn’t wearing pants and the soft cloth of the pajama bottoms provides little barrier to Harry’s touch, the sensation making Louis tingle all over. “Fucking hell, I want to lick you open right now.”

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis mutters, because being licked open by Harry sounds amazing and Louis may have just gotten his pajama bottoms on, but he already wants to tear them off so that he can lay Harry out on the bed and have his way with him all over again. He decides he’s going to do just that when there is a loud knock on the main doors to the suite and Louis knows that lunch has arrived. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he sighs and then he blows out a heavy breath in resignation. “I guess we’ll have to put off another go until after lunch. Let’s go eat, love.” He grabs Harry by the hand and drags him out of the bedroom and into the living space.

“All right,” Harry reluctantly agrees as they hurry to answer the door. “But then I’m going to give you your surprise, and after, I’m going to ride you so hard you’re not going to know who’s fucking who.”

Harry’s words stop Louis dead in his tracks and he halts in front of the door and turns to him, wrapping his hands around Harry’s neck and yanking him close, kissing him hard. Harry breathes sharply at the way Louis thrusts his tongue into his mouth, Louis completely in control as their lips move together fierce and sloppy. There is another knock on the door and Louis ignores it for a few more seconds while he continues to kiss Harry like it’s his sole purpose in the universe and then he finally pulls away and when he does break the kiss, Louis looks at Harry and Harry’s eyes are wide and he’s just staring at Louis, slack-jawed, like he doesn’t know what just hit him.

“You’re going to ride me until I don’t know ‘who’s fucking who’?” Louis questions, his mouth turning up in a smirk. Harry just stares at him, completely gob-smacked and then he brushes his fingertip across his lips. “I’ll look forward to it, then,” Louis says nonchalantly and then he opens the door and greets the hotel attendant bringing them their meal.

They have their lunch at the glass mosaic Tiffany table in Harry’s kitchenette and dine on little slider sandwiches of turkey, cranberries and Brie on soft rolls; roast beef, Swiss cheese and horseradish on pumpernickel bread; and lobster salad with fresh slaw and tomatoes on crusty buns. The fruit platter is loaded with sliced mangos, pineapple, and raspberries, as well as a number of fruits Louis never saw or ate on Earth, their flavors varying from tart to sweet but every bite tasting better than the one that came before. There’s a potato salad made with red skins and sour cream and dill, and also a huge bowl of salted mixed nuts, and Louis and Harry wash it all down with sparkling water and hot tea, the meal satisfying and filling, but also surprisingly light.

Their conversation is light too, neither man ready to broach the subject of their Reviews or what happened during Louis’ session to make him so upset. Instead they talk about their families, sharing anecdotes from their childhoods, exchanging stories about their school days, and just reveling in being together.

After lunch, they load their dirty dishes and the empty serving plates back onto the wheeled cart the attendant used to bring their food in. They both know cleaning up isn’t expected of them, but they nonetheless want to make Serena’s job a little bit easier when she next returns to clean Harry’s suite. Louis has just wiped off the table with a dishtowel when Harry excuses himself and disappears into the bedroom. He returns wearing his shoes and he hands Louis his own pair, instructing him to put them on. Louis does as he’s told without argument.

“Should we get dressed, Haz?” Louis asks, unsure of what’s happening.

“No, we don’t need to get dressed. In fact, I don’t want to see you in any more clothing than what you’re currently wearing. I’d like to see you in _less_ clothing, actually, but you’re going to need your shoes for my surprise and before I can give it to you, I need your help,” Harry answers. He takes Louis by the hand and leads him in to the sunken living room area. “Come on, love,” he instructs. “Help me move the furniture.”

“Move the furniture?” Louis asks and then he breaks out into a wide grin. “Is your surprise sexual acrobatics, Harry? Because if so, I support this surprise fully, one hundred percent.”

“No, no!” Harry laughs, lifting one of the straight chairs that face the round coffee table and setting it on the elevated perimeter that surrounds the sunken space. “I just want for you to have a nice open space, is all.”

“Nice open space for what?” Louis asks.

“You’ll see,” Harry answers. “Now help me move these sofas.”

In all, there are three, straight back chairs, two sofas, a sofa table and coffee table that need to be moved to clear the area completely, and Louis follows Harry’s lead without further question, both working quickly together, the furnishings light and easily lifted up the two steps to the open upper landing space of the suite and all the pieces save for the coffee table easily fitting into the bar area and kitchenette. Within a few minutes, they’re moving the flower vases that sit on the large, round coffee table and placing them on the kitchen counter and then moving the coffee table itself, setting it in the entranceway of Harry’s suite.

“Wow,” Louis comments, “I can’t get over how huge this suite is, Haz.”

Cleared of all of its furnishings, the sunken portion of Harry’s suite is quite sizable, at least eight by six meters in length and width, and despite the fact that all the furniture has been moved to the upper surrounding area, that space too is in no way cluttered or crowded. In fact, only a small portion of the windows near the kitchen are blocked with the relocated furniture, the entire area in front of the floor to ceiling windows that run the perimeter wall opposite the sunken living room still completely open.

“It’s big, yeah,” Harry answers, his voice humble. “I still like your suite best, Lou. Your place feels like you. It feels like home.”

Louis feels a familiar warmth bloom in his chest: that little burst of love he gets whenever Harry says something off-the-cuff and unintentionally lovely always taking his breath away. Harry takes his hand and leads him back into the sunken space, which is now completely empty save for the intricate woven rug that encompasses the majority of its marble floor.

“Now close your eyes and I’m going to go get your surprise, Louis,” Harry says, his voice excited.

“Okay, darling,” Louis answers. He closes his eyes. “I can’t wait,” he adds.

“It’s really not much,” Harry replies, his voice sounding suddenly nervous. “I-I hope you’re not disappointed, Lou.”

“Harry! You could never disappoint me,” Louis exclaims and then his voice softens. “I love you so much, darling. I can’t believe you have something else for me; you’ve already done more than enough to make today special.” Louis feels the familiar wave of sadness, but he’s going to be in the moment and continue to enjoy his afternoon with Harry, so he changes his tone, his voice full of sass when he adds, “Now go get my surprise, Harold. We don’t have all day and I’m dying of suspense.”

The words haven’t even left Louis’ lips before he’s expecting the retort.

“You’re already dead, Louis,” Harry teases.

Louis feels the soft press of Harry’s lips on his cheek and then the warmth of his body disappears as Harry leaves the living space to retrieve his gift. He’s gone less than a minute and then Louis hears him return and place something on the floor a few meters from where Louis is standing.

“You can open your eyes now, Lou,” Harry says and Louis immediately does as he’s told.

At first he doesn’t see it, his eyes instantly focusing on Harry standing just across the room, smiling shyly at him. He looks so beautiful, the light of the afternoon sun spilling in through the windows and illuminating Harry’s body from behind. Like Louis, Harry wears only thin pajama bottoms, his broad, bare chest cast in shadow, his strong arms curved so that both hands rest on his hips. By the way the light is cast from the windows, the silhouette of his long legs is clearly visible behind the thin fabric of his loose trousers and Louis can’t help but take all of him in. He’s utterly perfect in every way imaginable and best of all his heart belongs to Louis.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, darling,” Louis says, his voice full of awe.

“Loooouis,” Harry replies, and he shakes his head, his expression completely fond.

But then Harry breaks out in a wide grin and he pulls his leg back, drawing Louis’ attention to the movement of his foot as he swings it forward in a controlled motion saying, “Let’s see that fancy footwork of yours, Tomlinson,” and it’s just then that Louis realizes that there is a football sailing across the carpet, landing on the floor, right in front of Louis’ own two feet.

Louis stands there for a moment staring at it, completely stunned, and then he bends over and picks the ball up. It’s a regulation Adidas football: the black pentagons that comprise its leather surface outlined in green, while the white pentagons are framed in blue. It’s round, like any other football Louis has ever held before, and Louis gives it a gentle squeeze, the air pressure within the ball perfect.

“Harry,” he whispers, completely moved. He turns the ball over in his hands, staring at it, because he can’t believe what a thoughtful gesture this was. Harry walks over to him.

“Do you like it, Louis?” he asks, his voice hopeful. “I remembered you telling me that playing footie and practicing your skills always helped you to relax and let go of stress. I know how difficult this week has been for you and you’ve only gotten to play once and so I thought maybe you could dribble the ball around a bit or have a little scrimmage with me and that might help clear your head and make you feel better about things.”

Louis swallows thickly. He can feel the familiar sting welling in his eyes and he shifts the ball to grip it under one arm, wiping his free hand over his lashes to brush away the tears before they can fall.

Harry knew Louis cared about football; he visited him out on the pitch at Shepherdshire the night they declared their love for one another and Louis’ passion for the game has come up during more than one conversation. But still… Harry really _listened_ when Louis talked about the sport. He remembered that on Earth, Louis always kept a ball in his trunk or hidden away in his office and he also remembered how kicking that football around invariably helped Louis work off nervous energy and enabled him to refocus. Harry considered how incredibly nervous Louis has been about his Review and he thought of the one thing that might help ease a bit of Louis’ tension and he delivered that thing to him.

The gift is simple: it’s just a football, after all, but the gesture is one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for Louis and once again he is overwhelmed with the love he feels for this man standing before him.

“I can’t believe you did this, Harry. I… I don’t know what to say, really. This was so lovely of you and I’m… I’m overwhelmed.” Louis looks down at the ball, pulling it from under his arm and clutching it in both hands and then he looks back at Harry. Harry is blushing, but smiling proudly.

“I’m so happy you like it, Lou,” Harry says quietly. He then lets out a breathy laugh, obviously intent on lightening the mood and his voice is teasing when he adds, “Well, you’ll probably want to put the ball on the floor, Louis. I think you’re supposed to play with your feet.”

Louis’ face splits into one of his crinkly-eyed grins.

“Cheeky,” he answers, and then he does as he’s told, backing up a couple meters and then dropping the ball onto the floor. It bounces a few times on the carpet, but Louis extends his leg and kicks it toward Harry. “Come on love, let’s do some passes, yeah?”

Harry smiles and kicks the ball back to him, their movements a bit restrained so as to keep the ball within the confines of the sunken living space. They pass the ball back and forth, traversing the entire open floor, their bodies occasionally bumping and both men laughing and nudging one another as they each try to gain control over the ball, and best of all, Louis is having so much fun. He feels totally free and loose and it’s all because of Harry’s thoughtfulness.

They scrimmage together for twenty minutes or so, and after a long pass where Louis nearly leaps into the fireplace to capture the ball, he does a pivot move, hooking the ball with his ankle and then he passes it back to Harry. Harry misses, the ball bouncing to the corner of the room and Harry practically trips over his feet to reach it.

“I’m not the best at this sport,” Harry confesses with a laugh.

“Nah, you’re doing great, Haz,” Louis encourages.

“Well, it’s fun messing about with you, Lou,” Harry answers. “Maybe when we get to the next realm you can teach me to play proper?”

He awkwardly wrangles the ball where it’s wedged against the bottom step and kicks it back toward Louis, his aim off by about a meter. Louis takes a quick stride and catches the ball expertly, stilling it between his feet and then directing it back to Harry, kicking it gently so that it rolls across the floor and lands right in front of Harry’s feet.

“I’d love that, darling,” Louis replies, and honestly, he would. God, he would love nothing more than to move on to the next realm with Harry and teach him to play football, but he’s not going to think about that right now. Instead, he’s going to be in the moment.

“You know, I could have just taken you outside to play, but I wanted to be selfish,” Harry says, his voice nonchalant as he kicks the ball back in Louis’ direction, this time making a perfect pass.

“Selfish?” Louis asks. “There’s absolutely nothing selfish about this gift, Harry. What do you mean by ‘selfish’?” He starts dribbling the ball back and forth across the carpet; indulging in the relief the sport always affords him.

“Well, if we’d gone outside, we would have lost a lot of time in the coming and going and all that, and I didn’t want to risk it because I’m very committed to making sure you fulfill the words you said to me this morning.”

Louis isn’t paying full attention. He’s getting lost in the game and that’s exactly what’s necessary to clear his head of all the worry that’s been weighing so heavy on his conscience.

“What words did I say to you, love?” he asks, his eyes on the ball as he stops it with the side of his foot and then draws back to kick it toward Harry.

“You said that first you were going to make love to me and then you were going to fuck me, Louis.”

Louis kicks the ball hard and it goes sailing across the room, flying over the living area and crashing against one of the floor to ceiling windows that run the outer wall of the suite. Louis cringes when the ball makes contact, terrified the window may shatter and then he blows out a huge breath of relief when it bounces off the glass surface without leaving so much as a smudge mark. It rolls across the marble floor and back in their direction and then drops down the two steps into the sunken living space, Louis’ face a shocked grimace during the ball’s entire journey.

“Fucking hell, Harry!” Louis exclaims. “Don’t say things like that to me when I’m playing. I could’ve broken the bloody window!”

Harry just lets out an amused laugh, clearly enjoying the fact that he so easily distracted Louis to the point that he nearly kicked a football through a window in one of the posh penthouse suites of The Ambassador Hotel. He picks up the ball and carries it over to Louis, handing it to him.

“Practice your drills for a bit and I’m going to sit and watch.”

“You sure, love?” Louis asks. “You don’t want to play anymore?”

“I’ll play with you later, Lou,” Harry teases, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Dirty boy,” Louis grins. He plants a kiss on Harry’s lips and then drops the ball to the floor.

He needed this: the release he always gets from kicking the football around. For Louis, playing footie has always been the ultimate stress reliever and just the brief time he’s spent passing the ball back and forth with Harry has helped him start to relax, even though nearly breaking the window was a bit of a distraction. He can’t believe Harry did this for him. He looks over at him and Harry is sitting on the top step, staring at Louis like Louis is the sun and Louis shakes his head in awe that Harry is actually his. “Thank you,” he mouths, and Harry smiles back at him, nodding his head.

Louis doesn’t know how long he practices. He completely loses all track of time, but he’s trying to perform his skills as best as he can, wanting to impress Harry as if that’s something that’s even necessary at this point.

He starts off dribbling the ball in and out through imaginary cones and then spends some time on his footwork, doing stair-stepper and machine gun drills, his mind eventually going completely blank save for the action of his feet. He doesn’t realize that after ten minutes or so of watching Louis from the sidelines, Harry has gotten up and gone into the bedroom, nor does he observe that Harry keeps going back and forth into the bedroom to retrieve different things, his arms loaded down with bulky items that he carries on each return trip. Louis just keeps moving the ball around, totally oblivious.

He begins to build-up a light sweat, the endorphins kicking in as Louis completes more high-energy drills that raise his heart rate and fill him with that familiar rush he always experiences when he’s out on the pitch.

Louis starts juggling the ball, bouncing it up and down on his knees, hopping back and forth between each foot as he sends the ball up into the air with one knee and then catches it and bounces it back up with the other. He doesn’t take his eyes off the football, but after a few minutes, he senses Harry’s presence, he knows that Harry is watching him, and so he starts to show off a bit: bouncing the ball a little higher, his chest out, his bum popped.

“Louis,” Harry says, his voice low and gravelly. Louis bounces the ball off his left knee and it flies up high in the air and then Louis catches it in his hands before turning to answer Harry.

“Yes, dar – ” Louis starts, and then he stops mid-sentence, rendered speechless.

Harry stands in front of the same windowpane that Louis lobbed the ball into earlier and he’s perched atop a thick pile of blankets, duvets, and sheets, all of which he’s spread out on the floor and made into a bed of sorts, right there in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook Judgment City. There are several fluffy pillows placed at the head of the bedding and all of the linens are a crisp, bright white and it actually looks like Harry is standing on a cloud.

But the thing that really has caught Louis’ attention and has caused him to lose his ability to speak or really, properly articulate any thoughts at all, is that Harry is standing before him completely nude, staring at Louis with lust-blown eyes and lips so pink and juicy that they’re positively begging for Louis to come and have a taste. One of Harry’s hands rests on his hip, but the other is wrapped around his cock and he’s casually stroking himself, his dick fully hard in his hand.

“I’m ready for you to fuck me now, Louis,” Harry says, his voice raw and heavy with desire, and Louis stares for a moment, completely frozen, but then he gains his wits and drops the football, racing across the floor and nearly tripping up the steps in his rush to get to him.

“Holy hell, Harry,” Louis mumbles. He kicks off his shoes and quickly pulls off his pajama bottoms, wasting no time stripping naked.

The football was amazing and it helped release a lot of the tension Louis has been hanging on to since the events of yesterday and this morning’s terrible Review session. But this… Harry standing before him, stark nude in the glowing light of the afternoon sun, fully erect, and inviting Louis to fuck him… well, this is what Louis _really_ needed.

“Thought it might be nice if you took me right here, overlooking the city. What do you think about that, Louis?” Harry asks, his voice rough, but his tone casual. Louis is a little sweaty from his practice, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind, he just lets go of his cock and takes Louis by the hand, pulling him down onto the cushiony cloud of bedding, Louis practically disappearing into the sheets.

“I think that’s an amazing idea, Harry,” Louis answers, his breathing heavy both from the recent exercise and the anticipation of what’s to come. “I think _you’re_ amazing.”

He pats the top of the bedding, running his hand across the fresh linens. It’s so warm and comfortable in front of the windows, this lovely little cloud bed and the bright, afternoon sunshine offering a pleasant contrast to the cool and cozy dark space of Harry’s bedroom.

“I can’t believe you did all of this,” Louis says, letting out a breathy little laugh. “I can’t believe I was so caught up in trying to impress you with my football skills that I didn’t even _notice_ that you were doing all this. You’re something else, do you know that?”

“You may have mentioned it,” Harry replies, and then he pushes Louis back into the soft bedding and cradles Louis’ jaw in his hands, planting a series of feather light kisses all over his face and neck before licking his tongue over Louis’ lips and then joining their mouths together. The kiss is slow and dirty, Harry swiping his tongue inside Louis’ mouth and then pulling back to bite at Louis’ bottom lip before once again crashing their mouths together. Louis groans softly, his cock already half hard just by the sight of Harry’s nude body and the taste of his tongue.

Harry pulls back and stares into Louis’ eyes and his expression is so intense, so feral, that Louis draws in a shuddering breath. “You looked so sexy kicking that ball around, Louis. Your body… your arse in those tight pajamas… You’re so fucking fit.”

Harry runs his large, warm hands up and down Louis’ sides, leaving a trail of flickering sparks in his wake and then he scoots back and wraps his fingers around Louis’ cock, giving a few sharp pulls that have Louis arching his back off the bedding and moaning loudly, his dick now at full attention.

“Harry,” Louis groans, but then no more words come out of his mouth because Harry has leaned over and is mouthing Louis’ nipple and the sensation of Harry’s pillowy lips and warm tongue lapping and suckling the circle of flesh before he administers a series of stinging bites, his teeth teasing and pulling at Louis’ bud, has Louis writhing, this onslaught of sex so sudden and so fucking good that Louis is already beside himself.

“Harry,” Louis pants out again, and he reaches up, pawing at Harry’s back, seeking some sort of anchor because Harry is now licking down his sternum, his hands roaming over Louis’ body, squeezing and touching and just taking him in. Louis makes a soft whimpering sound because Harry is all over him. He feels fully encompassed, safe, and content, but he’s also aware that he’s just spent half an hour practicing football skills and he should probably take a shower before they continue any further.

“M’all sweaty, Harry,” Louis whines, trying to give Harry an out.

“Don’t care,” Harry answers dismissively. “You don’t think I had ulterior motives when I gave you that football, Louis?” He noses along the sparse patch of hair in the center of Louis’ chest, inhaling deeply. “I _love_ the way you smell when you sweat,” Harry says, looking up so that his eyes meet Louis’. He doesn’t look away when he drags his tongue over Louis’ belly, nosing Louis’ hard cock out of the way to lick into his navel, but Louis eyes fall shut at the bubbling pleasure the contact sends through his body. “I love the way you taste. Your skin… Your scent… I desire everything about you, Louis, and I don’t think I’ll ever have enough.”

“I-I was thinking the very same thing about you when we were making love earlier, Harry. I love the way you smell and taste.”

Harry grins at that and then shifts forward to give Louis a long and languid kiss that takes Louis’ breath away.

“We’re soul mates, Louis,” Harry practically purrs when they finally pull apart. “We were born to love each other. I was born to love every little thing about you and you were born to love every little thing about me. It’s the greatest gift I’ve ever known.”

“The greatest gift,” Louis repeats.

Louis stops talking then and just watches, completely transfixed as Harry continues licking and kissing and worshipping his body, working his way across Louis’ torso and sucking a love bite into the soft flesh of Louis’ hip, his fingers dragging up and down Louis’ cock, making Louis pant and moan. Louis feels hot all over, like his very skin is burning with the heat of his desire and Harry’s sweet and soft lips are like a cool, soothing balm against his skin, each press of Harry’s mouth and flicker of his tongue sending shivering jolts of pleasure that Louis feels from his head to his toes.

He’s never felt so adored.

Harry presses reverent kisses across Louis’ belly and then he places his large hands on Louis’ hips and Louis doesn’t even know what’s happening but suddenly he’s being flipped over so that he’s laying on his stomach and Harry is straddling him, hovering over Louis’ arse but resting his weight on his own knees. Harry grips Louis’ shoulders and then begins massaging his muscles, Louis practically melting at his touch. Harry kneads his hands slowly over Louis’ body, his deft fingers expertly working out the kinks in Louis’ shoulders and neck and loosening the knots in Louis’ back, before gliding his hands down and rubbing his thumbs into the dimples at the base of Louis’ spine and then squeezing his bum.

Louis doesn’t fight him, he just gives in to the feeling: soothed by the radiating heat of Harry’s fingertips as they dig into his muscles and kept aroused by the way that Harry keeps leaning over to bite and suck at Louis’ skin, by the way he slides his hand beneath Louis’ torso to tweak his nipples and thumb at the head of his cock, causing Louis to whine needily. It’s like Harry is playing Louis’ body, setting him completely loose and making him utterly pliant and relaxed, and then simultaneously winding him up and putting him on edge.

It suddenly occurs to Louis that he told Harry just yesterday that when he was on Earth he treated himself twice a month to a massage and his heart fills with warmth when he realizes that this sexual rubdown is yet another thing that Harry is gifting him with to ease the tension Louis is suffering because of his Review. Harry is pampering Louis in a way that he knows Louis likes and Louis could just cry he loves him so much.

“Haz,” Louis murmurs, his words heavy and slurred, his body giving in completely to the pleasure of Harry’s ministrations, but his mind telling him that he needs to give something back. “Your hands… they feel so fucking good, darling. But you don’t have to do this, love –”

“It’s my turn to take care of you, Lou,” Harry interrupts. He leans over, his breath hot against Louis’ neck as he adds, “Besides, I want you completely loose and limber when I ride you. Don’t think I’ll be able to wait much longer for that.”

Despite the fact that his body has relaxed under Harry’s massaging hands, Harry has kept Louis’ dick achingly hard and Harry’s words shoot straight through it and Louis can’t help himself; it’s like his body is on autopilot when he grinds down into the bedding, suddenly desperate for friction.

“And you call me a ‘dirty boy’,” Harry teases and then he clamps his mouth hard over the back of Louis’ neck, Louis crying out and pushing himself backwards in response of the sudden, exquisite pressure. Harry wraps his arm around Louis’ hip, his other arm across Louis’ chest and he’s so fucking strong, he just pulls Louis completely upright so that both men are sitting on their knees, Louis’ back collapsed against Harry’s chest as Harry continues to bite and suck on Louis’ flesh. Louis is certain Harry is going to leave a massive love bite and Louis is glad of it. He wants Harry’s marks all over his skin.

“Did you bring the lube?” Louis groans, even though he’s already certain of the answer.

“Of course,” Harry replies and then he licks over the spot he’s been sucking, soothing Louis’ tender skin with his cool tongue. “Don’t think it will take much to open me up though, Louis, stretched out over your cock the way I was earlier.”

“Jesus Christ, Harry,” Louis answers breathily. He’s so completely turned on by Harry’s hands and his mouth and his dirty talk that he doesn’t think he can wait much longer and when Harry slides his hand from Louis’ waist and wraps it around his cock, Louis thinks he might very well explode. Harry strokes Louis fast and rough and before long, Louis is pushing his arse back against Harry, Harry’s own erect dick pressing obscenely between Louis’ cheeks and the sensation of being pulled off while Harry’s thick cock pushes against his rim is almost too much to bear.

“Need to fuck you. Right now,” Louis pleads and Harry immediately lets go of Louis’ dick and releases him, Louis nearly falling forward at the sudden loss of support. Harry lies down quickly, his head crashing against one of the pillows as he slides his feet toward his body, preparing to spread his legs.

“Open me up, Louis,” Harry orders and then he reaches for the bottle of lubricant that sits on the window ledge and hands it to Louis. Normally, Louis would be whining at the sudden loss of Harry’s warm hand on his dick, as well as the absence of the sweet, thick pressure of Harry’s cock against his rim, but as he looks at Harry, stretched out before him, his body practically emanating light from the afternoon sun that pours in through the wall to wall windows, all Louis can do is feel grateful.

Louis pauses for a moment as he tries to calm down because he’s so turned on he thinks he might come the moment his cock gets anywhere near Harry’s arse. He takes a deep breath and looks out the window and is immediately caught off guard by the view. The sky is bright blue, long thin cirrus clouds dancing in the atmosphere, and the buildings of Judgment City stand tall and regal, each one purposed solely to serve the dead.

Louis cannot believe he’s actually here.

He looks back at Harry who stares at him with a look of utter longing and all that Louis can think of is that if someone had told him on Earth that he was going to die at thirty years of age and that it would be the best thing that ever happened to him, he would have thought that they were positively insane. He huffs a wry little laugh, because if he had known on Earth that when he died he would have the chance to return to Earth a week later to have a fresh start at a whole new life, he would have been certain that he would have been desperate to jump at the opportunity. But now, the gift of returning to Earth to live again seems a positive nightmare and it’s absolutely the last thing that Louis wants because what Louis wants more than anything is –

“I want to stay with _you_ , Harry,” Louis whispers sadly and then he immediately ducks his head, ashamed that he voiced the thought out loud, terrified that he’s ruined the moment, that he’s just undone all of the precious things Harry did for him this afternoon to take his mind off his worries.

Harry reaches out and grabs Louis, pulling him between his legs so that Louis’ torso is laid out upon him and then wrapping his arms around him before latching their mouths together. He kisses Louis slowly and with so much purpose, like every press of his lips and slide of his tongue is intended to show Louis how much he loves him. Louis feels that love to the core of his bones.

“You _are_ staying with me, Louis,” Harry assures him. “I promise you, you are. I know you’re so worried, sweetheart, but I also know that tonight we’re going to be on that train together. I’m not leaving here without you and you’re not leaving here without me. We’re in this thing together, forever.”

Harry’s voice is confident when he speaks, like he doesn’t have a doubt in his mind about the outcome of their Reviews, but his eyes search Louis’ face, as if he’s looking for any sign that Louis believes him.

“I’m so sorry, Haz,” Louis replies, shaking his head. He’s so mad at himself because everything was so hot and passionate and now Louis is certain it’s all come stuttering to a halt. “I shouldn’t have said that. My fucking insecurities have gone and ruined the moment,” he mutters, but Harry just shakes his head in disagreement and thrusts his hips upward in response, his hard dick rutting against Louis’ cock and causing Louis’ entire groin to tingle at the contact.

“Does it _feel_ like you’ve ruined the moment, Louis?” Harry asks and then he thrusts his hips upwards again and Louis reacts without thought, immediately grinding down against him, their cocks rubbing together and sending ripples of pleasure throughout Louis’ body. “I want you to know that you can tell me how you’re feeling about things at _any_ time, Louis. I want to comfort you when you’re worried and I want to celebrate with you when you’re glad. It doesn’t matter _what_ we’re doing. I want to know everything that you’re thinking. I’m here for you. Always.”

“Always,” Louis repeats, relief washing over him. Just like that, with a few simple words, Harry has calmed Louis’ fears and given him solace and Louis couldn’t be more grateful. “Thank you for saying that, Harry. I-I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll always have me, Louis, so that’s something you’ll never have to worry about.”

“Always,” Louis repeats again.

Harry stares at Louis for a long moment, studying him to make sure he’s okay and then he leans up and kisses Louis sweetly on the cheek.

“Better?” Harry asks.

“Better,” Louis answers, nodding his head.

Harry smiles innocently but then his expression changes, he licks his lips and his smile turns into a playful smirk, and once again he thrusts his hips upwards, his cock gliding against Louis’ and Louis drops his head and groans at the sensation, the contact casting a buzzing vibration through Louis’ dick that flickers up his spine and spreads throughout his body.

They’re back in the moment.

Louis nuzzles the end of his nose against Harry’s, ghosting his mouth over Harry’s lips and then sucking a wet kiss on Harry’s chin. They continue rutting against one another filthily for another minute or two before Louis reaches for the lube and slides back, once again sitting up on his knees, Harry spreading his legs wide.

“Two fingers, Louis,” Harry requests and Louis raises an eyebrow.

“Are you sure, love? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me, I promise. Start me off with two fingers. If I don’t have you back inside of me soon I think I might cry.”

 _Fucking hell_.

Louis coats his fingers, spreading the lube on his index, middle, and third finger because he knows this prep isn’t going to take long and he’s just as desperate for Harry as Harry is for him.

It’s so bright in front of the windows and when Harry slides his feet closer to his hips and presents himself, Louis just stares, because Harry has absolutely no reservations about sharing his body in this way. He’s not shy or nervous to be on display in such a manner, he just lets Louis see him, _wants_ Louis to see him and for about the hundredth time today, Louis can’t get over how lucky he is.

Louis extends his first and second finger, circling them over the ribbed pink tissue of Harry’s entrance, getting it slick. He doesn’t think he’ll get over how velvety soft Harry’s rim is, nor will he ever fail to appreciate the way that it clenches greedily under his touch. Harry’s body is just so responsive and welcoming, and Louis knows it’s because it’s Louis that Harry is sharing himself with. Louis wastes no time, he pushes his fingertips against Harry’s hole and then presses forward, sliding them past the tight ring of muscle and fully breaching Harry’s opening. Harry lets out a happy little sigh of relief at being filled in such a small way and he immediately lifts his hips to drive Louis’ digits in even deeper.

Once again, Louis is amazed by how tight Harry is, how his walls just clamp around his fingers, but Louis works against the resistance, sliding his fingers back and forth and then slowly scissoring them open, Harry almost immediately panting out, “More. I need more.”

Louis gives it to him.

He pulls his fingers all the way out and then squeezes his index and third finger together, his middle finger resting atop them both. He squirts another dollop of lube directly over Harry’s hole and Harry whines lowly as the cool liquid drips over his rim. Louis presses his fingers against the puckered ring and it’s so slippery, so slick that his fingertips literally slide into place and he pushes them forward.

At first, Harry’s body resists the wider intrusion, but he groans and encourages Louis to keep going and so Louis gently drives his fingers in all the way to the second knuckle, his movements smooth and slow. Louis gives Harry a moment to adjust and Harry’s eyes fall shut and then he croaks, “More,” and Louis slides them in the rest of the way, Harry’s rim now stretched tight around the base of Louis’ fingers, the top of his knuckles resting flush against Harry’s arse, his thumb softly stroking over his taint.

Louis’ eyes fall shut for a minute and he has to squeeze his base hard because the way his hand looks with his fingers buried in Harry’s arse is one of the most gorgeously erotic things he’s ever seen. It’s so incredibly intimate, this connection, and from an outsider’s perspective such a scene would no doubt look utterly pornographic.

But it’s not.

In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Being connected to Harry in this way is actually the most pure and perfect thing in the universe and being able to give Harry pleasure by exploring his body in this manner is one of the greatest things that Louis has ever known.

 _Plus, it’s hot as fuck_.

“Louis,” Harry mutters and Louis knows he’s ready for more.

Louis begins to move his fingers then, first slowly stretching them apart to prepare Harry for his cock, then gliding them back and forth until he’s found that sensitive gland with the bundle of nerves that he can stroke to make Harry writhe and beg beneath him. When Louis’ curved fingertips press against the spot, Harry clutches his thighs, digging his fingers into his own flesh as he scrunches his face and rocks his hips up and down and the way he looks so desperate and helpless prompts Louis to rub over the spot again and again.

Louis can do nothing but stare as he finger fucks Harry, utterly consumed by the way Harry’s body stretches around his digits as they glide forward and back, the way Harry’s abdominal muscles relax and then clench in reaction to Louis’ deep touch, and the way that Harry slides his hand across his belly to his cock, his fingers stretching and hesitating, and then pulling back in a way that tells Louis that Harry is fighting to keep from touching himself, obviously wanting to get off on Louis’ touch alone. It’s so intense and so mesmerizing, the bright afternoon sunlight ensuring that Louis can clearly see every way in which he’s manipulating Harry’s body. It’s positively breathtaking.

“Lou,” Harry grunts out, his voice already half-ruined. “I’m ready. I’m fucking ready.”

But Louis suddenly feels playful and he wants this moment to last just a bit longer and so he asks, “Do you want me to pull my fingers out, darling? Are you sure you don’t want a little bit more of this, first?” Louis curls his fingers and presses them against Harry’s prostate _hard_ , a bead of pre-come blurting from the head of Harry’s cock and Harry letting out a long, loud cry in response to the sharp stimulation.

Louis eases his fingers slowly back and Harry’s chest is rapidly rising and falling, his voice breathy when says, “You’re going to pay for that, Tomlinson,” and Louis just grins.

“Is that so?” he asks, his voice full of sass. He slides his fingers in deep again and crooks them just right to once again rub over Harry’s prostate, but this time he barely touches its surface and Harry whines in frustration, lifting his hips to drive Louis’ fingers against his spot harder and satisfy his ache.

“Greedy, greedy,” Louis teases and he drags the thumb of his free hand down the vein that runs along the underside of Harry’s dick, his fingertips lightly drumming its surface, the blue vessel fully exposed in Harry’s rock hard state. Harry squeezes his thigh again, his other hand gripping the sheets and bunching them in his hand.

“Please, Louis!” Harry cries out and Louis knows that Harry has had enough toying around and is ready for him, so he carefully pulls his fingers out, watching transfixed as Harry’s rim expands and contracts to accommodate the shifting shape of the intrusion, the muscle fluttering helplessly when Louis’ fingers are fully removed.

Louis barely has time to wipe the excess lube off his fingers when Harry is sitting upright and ordering Louis on his back.

“Lie down, Louis,” Harry dictates, his voice deep and rough, and Louis immediately does as he’s told, lying flat on the bedding and resting his head on the same pillow Harry was just writhing against. Harry’s breathing is still heavy, his skin flushed and his pupils blown, but when he looks at Louis, his expression is unbelievably sexy, a hint of playful wickedness dancing behind his eyes and his voice is taunting when he shakes his head and slowly says, “The things I am going to do to you, Louis Tomlinson.” He sighs dramatically and makes a show of wetting his fingers, the sight of hollowed out cheeks and his plump, pink lips obscenely sucking and licking over his index finger and thumb making Louis squirm. Harry reaches out with his slicked up digits and pinches Louis’ nipple, tweaking the bud hard and causing Louis to let out a sharp scream of pleasure, the sensation so intense that Louis has to squeeze his base to keep from going too far over the edge. Harry bites his bottom lip and raises his eyebrow suggestively. “You better buckle the fuck up.”

Louis knows he’s positively in for it.

Harry straddles Louis again and this time Louis is on his back, so when Harry sits upright on his knees, Louis feels like Harry is towering over him, his presence dynamic, the sharp planes of his V-lines, taut muscles of his abdomen, and firm, round pecs encompassing Louis’ field of vision and making him feel weak with want. Harry stretches his arms over his head, joining his hands together and inverting them as his hips shift side to side, and then he lowers and extends them out in front of his body. He cracks his knuckles and shakes out his wrists, all the while staring at Louis like he’s positively going to wreck him. Louis makes a quiet whimpering sound at the sight, Harry biting back a grin at having already rendered Louis so affected.

Louis reaches up then because he absolutely has to grab onto Harry’s hips, he _needs_ to dig his fingers into Harry’s soft, warm flesh and feel the connection of skin on skin contact. Louis wants to drag his fingertips along the laurel tattoos and spread his hands over the butterfly. He needs to touch Harry right now, but Harry intercepts him, grabbing Louis’ wrists and forcing them back down onto the bedding so that they are extended over either side of Louis’ head.

“No touching, Louis,” Harry says and Louis bucks up his hips in frustration.

“Come on, Haz. I really want to touch you. I can make you feel so good,” Louis bargains.

“I can make you feel good too, Louis,” Harry answers. He leans over and drags his tongue up the side of Louis neck and then glides it along the shell of Louis’ ear, whispering lowly, “But I can also make you beg.”

 _Holy fuck_.

Harry leans forward, hovering over Louis, his long hair hanging down and framing Louis’ face, his curls tickling Louis’ cheeks, and his breath hot on Louis’ lips. He holds onto Louis’ wrists firmly and Louis is completely helpless because he wants to kiss Harry so badly and so he arches his neck and parts his lips, desperate for the feel of Harry’s lips against his own. Harry _almost_ gives them to him, flickering his tongue over Louis’ mouth but keeping back just far enough that his lips are a breath out of reach. Louis bobs his head upwards, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to latch on to Harry’s.

“You look like a hungry baby bird, Louis,” Harry teases and then he grinds his hips down, his cock once again rutting against Louis’ and Louis could scream, he’s never been played so well. Louis knows he instigated this sexy battle of the wills with the way he toyed with Harry while his fingers were still inside of him, but Harry has taken it a step further: he’s being so bossy and in command.

Louis positively loves it.

The thing is, he and Harry are always so sweet together, and their mutual adoration is a constant that Louis depends on, something that grounds him. But it’s as if Harry knows that simple sweetness isn’t enough for Louis right now. Louis is worried and he’s anxious and Harry is going to do everything he can to take his mind off of all of his troubles and despite the sassy tone of this raunchy little game they’re playing, Louis could positively swoon, his heart swelling and aching with the love he feels. Harry knows Louis needs a distraction: he gave him a football and encouraged him to cut loose; he rolled him on his stomach and administered a sensual massage, and now; he’s going to fuck the anxiety right out of him.

Louis couldn’t ask for anything more.

Harry’s hold on Louis is so strong, but Louis can’t help but push back and he manages to lift his head off the pillow just enough to finally reach Harry’s lips and he smashes his own against them hungrily because he needs this so much. Harry gives in to it immediately, thrusting his tongue inside Louis’ mouth while he ruts up against him, Louis’ head dropping back against the pillow as hot flickers of pleasure course through his cock.

Harry breaks the kiss and pulls down Louis’ arms so that his hands are now positioned beside his hips. But he still holds on to them, pressing them into the blankets and making it clear to Louis who is in charge.

“If I let go of your hands, do you promise to keep them still, Lou? Because honestly, I’m not going to release you unless you give me your word you won’t touch.”

“But I want to touch you, Harry,” Louis groans out, enjoying this give and take with his lover so much.

Harry leans over and starts gently biting along Louis’ collarbone and the sensation is sharp and intense, Harry’s teeth alternating between tickling and stinging his flesh, causing cascades of pleasure to flow from Louis’ shoulders, across his torso and down to his groin, his cock oozing a drop of precome onto his belly.

Louis suddenly realizes that if they were keeping a proper score during this erotic sex game, Harry would be up by at least ten points.

“Promise you won’t touch until I tell you that you can, Louis?” Harry questions and then he lets go of Louis’ arms as if giving him a test. He scratches his fingernails down Louis’ chest and the sharp drag makes Louis moan loudly and thrust up his hips, but he doesn’t touch Harry; instead, he stretches his fingers wide and then clutches the sheets. Harry smiles proudly at him.

“I promise… yeah, yeah, Haz. I promise.”

“Good, because I’m going to ride you now, Louis, and you’re not going to know what hit you.”

Louis’ eyes fall shut at the prospect of finally burying his cock deep inside of Harry’s tight, wonderful arse again. He loves this foreplay, but it’s gone on long enough and he doesn’t think he can take it much longer. He looks up at Harry, who is squirting a large dollop of lubricant onto his hand and Louis knows he’s going to want to touch Harry the second that Harry wraps his slicked up palm around his aching cock and he needs a diversion, and so he asks, “Can I touch myself, Haz?”

Harry’s eyes go wide and he lets out a shocked little breath, clearly caught off guard by the question.

“Fucking hell, Louis,” Harry answers, his voice gruff. “You can touch yourself. Fuck yes, you can touch yourself.”

 _Two points for Tomlinson_.

But then Harry wraps his hand around Louis’ dick and Louis is quite certain the game is lost.

Or won.

Honestly, there are no losers in this game, that’s for certain.

It feels so fucking amazing: the way that Harry is taking his time coating and carefully stroking Louis’ cock so that he’s entirely covered in the thick, lubricating liquid from root to tip. Harry wraps his hand over Louis’ head and then drags his thumbs across his slit, his expert touch causing Louis’ cock to positively throb.

“Need you now, Harry,” Louis mumbles and he does. He needs Harry more than anything; he’s desperate and aching for him. Harry nods his head. “Need you too, Lou,” he replies, his voice husky with desire.

Harry shuffles backwards, spreading his thighs wide and Louis grabs his base, his thumb pushing his cock away from where it rests hard and curved against his belly, his fingers fisting his dick upright to make it easier for Harry. Harry places his hands on Louis’ chest and he pushes his torso up, lifting up off his knees so that he’s balancing his weight on the balls of his feet and he’s sitting straight up on his haunches, his thigh muscles stretching and his stomach clenching as he positions himself over Louis’ cock. He reaches between his legs and wraps his hand over Louis’ and just like earlier when they first made love; they both direct the head of Louis’ dick to Harry’s entrance, their fingers tangling together, Louis’ heart pounding in his chest.

Harry looks at Louis and even though they’ve been teasing each other, even though they’ve been referring to this latest adventure as “fucking,” Louis knows that what they are about to share together will never be reduced to such a rudimentary term for sex. It will be wild and it will be fun and it may even be less emotional than their very first union, but the one thing that Louis knows for certain is that whenever his body is joined with Harry’s, they’re making love.

“Love you, darling,” Louis says, because he has to tell Harry, even though he’s said the words to him a thousand times.

“Love you, too,” Harry answers, his voice suddenly tender and reverential. “So much, Louis.”

But then Harry bites his bottom lip and raises an eyebrow, his voice once again playful when he adds, “And now sweetheart, prepare to get fucked.”

“Dirty boy,” Louis grins.

“You’re about to find out,” Harry answers.

Harry licks his lips and then it begins.

Harry bobs on Louis’ cock at first, Louis’ head barely slipping into and out of Harry’s hole and both men make anguished little cries because once again, the feeling is unlike anything Louis has ever experienced on Earth and he knows Harry feels the same.

Like their first time together; it’s so intense. But it’s also somehow different. It feels absolutely amazing, but yet, it’s also more carnal, raw… electric. It’s like Louis is stretched out between a live wire in the middle of a thunderstorm, charged energy positively crackling through his veins as Harry draws in a breath and sinks down lower. The head of Louis’ dick is forced through the impossibly tight ring of muscles and then completely enveloped in the welcome, wet heat of Harry’s body, sparks of energy sizzling between them as Harry makes his descent.

“Fucking amazing, Harry,” Louis grunts out and Harry makes a whimpering humming noise in agreement. His head falls back then, the planes and angles of his naked body stretched out and illuminated in the bright rays of sunlight that stream through the window. Tiny glinting particles of dust dance in the air around him and Louis thinks he looks positively ethereal.

“You’re an angel,” Louis whispers and Harry softly cries, “Lou,” in response.

They both let go of Louis’ cock and Louis slides his knees towards his body to offer Harry more support, pushing up his hips but not thrusting because he wants Harry to take him at his own pace. Harry leans forward, gripping Louis’ sides and then in one smooth movement, he sinks down all the way, Louis’ cock sliding in so deep that for a minute he’s mindless, everything fleeing his brain except the sensation of his dick completely encased with perfect, delicious pressure.

Harry closes his eyes and arches his back, leaning against Louis’ knees, his glistening cock standing tall and resting flush against his toned belly. He makes the softest little sound: a satisfied groan that sends a sharp jolt through Louis’ dick and Louis realizes that in less than one weeks’ time, pleasuring Harry has absolutely become his favorite thing to accomplish. Ever.

Harry relaxes his feet then, easing down onto his knees and then he stretches his thighs apart just a bit wider, sinking a fraction lower and forcing Louis’ cock in just a little deeper. And then Harry stills, allowing his body to adjust to the welcome intrusion inside of him. He looks so beautiful that Louis simply has to touch him and he decides he’s going to do just that, is just getting ready to lift his hands off the bedding, when Harry speaks.

“Not yet, Lou,” Harry cautions, lifting his head and opening his eyes to stare into Louis’ own, his expression coy. “I’m gonna ride you for a while before I let you touch me.”

“Fucking hell, Harry,” Louis replies, frustrated. He wants to touch Harry so badly he positively aches with need. But then, as was the case earlier in the day, he suddenly realizes that he never voiced his thoughts out loud and he’s breathless with shock when he says, “Harry, I never _said_ that I wanted to touch you. You… you were reading my mind again, love.”

Harry’s eyes go wide in realization and for a moment he looks like he might cry but then his lips turn up in a slow sweet smile and he doesn’t vocalize the words but Louis hears them anyway, plain as day: “Soul mates.”

“Soul mates,” Louis repeats.

“We’re going to need to talk about this, Lou,” Harry says, his voice heavy and breaking. Louis nods his head in agreement.

“Definitely,” he answers.

“Later,” both of them mutter simultaneously.

Harry reaches for Louis’ hands then, intertwining their fingers and then dragging Louis’ arms upwards as he slowly leans forward to kiss him. As he moves, Louis’ cock shifts inside Harry’s body, both men moaning helplessly at the sensation and Louis is overcome with how incredible it feels for his shaft to be pressed back towards his own belly by the tight walls that encase it. It’s indescribable how intense it all is: the buzzing current that flows between them; the shockwaves of pleasure that are emanating from the point of connection and rippling through Louis’ entire body and into Harry’s; the love that they share.

Harry’s lips latch onto Louis’ and the kiss is sensual and slow, just the lightest flicker of Harry’s tongue against Louis’ own, just the softest press of pillowy lips against a thinner pair. Harry lets go of Louis’ hands, which are now positioned palm up on either side of Louis’ shoulders and he slowly pushes himself upright and when his upper body is returned to its vertical position, Harry begins to circle his hips. He starts out slowly, and Louis knows he’s still adjusting to his cock, that he’s working himself up to something greater. But still, these little swiveling movements are stirring storm waves in Louis’ groin, the pull he feels in his abdomen swirling in time to Harry’s hips, creating an electric hurricane of pleasure.

“Hurricane,” Harry whispers.

Louis could cry.

Louis watches, completely entranced as the muscles of Harry’s thighs support his body as he works himself over on Louis’ dick. Louis will never get over how strong Harry is; riding another man is physically taxing and Harry seems to be doing it effortlessly. Harry leans back against Louis’ bent legs again and this time he stretches his arms behind him, gripping onto the backs of Louis’ thighs, his head falling back in bliss as he starts to move a little faster, the storm in Louis’ groin gaining force and Louis closes his eyes and for a moment he imagines power lines swinging and then snapping in the wind, rain pelting down on a dark night, waves raging on a distant sea. He feels like his body is alive with all of it, the whirling pools of pleasure so intense that he has to draw in a calming breath to avoid giving in to it all and coming before he and Harry even get properly started.

“So full, Lou,” Harry grunts brokenly, “I feel so full and I-I fucking love it. I wish you knew what it was like to have you so deep inside… to be stretched out over you like this.” Harry licks his lips and raises his head. His eyes are so dark, only the thinnest thread of green circling his blown pupils. He digs his fingernails into Louis’ thighs, his nails biting into the soft skin and Louis cannot believe this is real because Harry has barely started moving and Louis is already lost in the eyewall of the storm.

He fucking has to touch him.

Louis reaches his hands out to grab onto Harry, but Harry catches him. He raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to speak and Louis knows he’s getting ready to chastise him and that he’s going to tell him not to touch. Louis blows out a puff of air, completely frustrated, but he’s a team player, and he can do this: he can keep this game going, just a little bit longer. Even though not touching Harry is torture, being under his control while Harry toys with him this way is making Louis want him even more, and he realizes that when he finally gets his fingers on that creamy flesh it will have been more than worth the wait. So instead of touching Harry, Louis places one hand flat on his own belly, the other on one of his pecs and then he begins to move them across his body slowly and with great intent. Louis is quite proud of himself, their little sex game still in full force, and he can barely control the smile threatening to break out on his lips when Harry lets out a whimpering moan at the sight.

 _Another point Tomlinson_.

“I heard that!” Harry pants out, his mouth turning up in a grin, and Louis can’t control his own smile any longer either, his eyes disappearing into happy crinkles because he’s having so much fun and best of all, Harry is making him feel so, so good.

“Just trying to play by the rules and not touch, darling,” Louis replies, his words breathy. He spreads the fingers of his right hand out then, sliding them up his chest and then he begins to play with his nipple, gliding his thumb over it at first and causing the bud to harden and then tweaking it between his fingers. Louis doesn’t know what feels better: the way his touch is shooting hot flashes of pleasure from his nipple to his cock, or the way that Harry’s eyes have gone a shade darker and he’s licking his lips. By the way that Harry’s movements temporarily falter and he absentmindedly mumbles, “Fucking gorgeous,” Louis is quite certain it’s the latter.

Louis glides his free hand over his lower belly, sliding his hand back and forth over his tummy towards the base of his cock and then spreading his fingers through his pubic hair before lazily dragging them back upwards and pinching the hairs of his treasure trail. He breathes a contented sigh and smiles at Harry, who is staring at Louis’ hands, watching helplessly at the way he is gently touching himself.

“Jesus,” Harry grunts.

“My name is _not_ Jesus, Harold,” Louis teases and Harry rolls his eyes and bites back another smile in response.

Harry is practically sitting in Louis’ lap now, his thighs relaxed on either side of Louis’ torso, his hips still moving in slow circles, but then he alters his movements; he begins rolling his hips and this change in motion is reflected in the energy that has been building in Louis’ groin and rippling throughout his body, the swirling storm now surging waves that crash over him.

 _How is it even possible to feel this good?_ Louis wonders, the thought barely registering before Harry answers him.

“It’s like nothing I’ve every felt before either, Lou.”

“Fuck, Harry.”

Louis looks at Harry then and the way that he is moving his body causes Louis to ache with need for him, which seems extreme given the fact that the two are literally joined together. Harry’s hips roll forward and back, the laurel tattoos that unfurl across his V-lines seemingly come to life, flickering in an imaginary breeze with each rocking motion. The butterfly tattoo that Louis adores at the center of Harry’s chest is in motion, too, and Louis thinks that it might lift off and take flight at any moment, its wings almost fluttering as Harry’s torso undulates in time to some magical rhythm in his head.

Harry’s abdomen is so taut and when he rolls his hips forward the muscles stretch beautifully, his six-pack clearly defined in the afternoon sunlight, and when he reels his hips back, those same muscles disappear into the tiniest, soft round curve of a tummy that Louis wants to worship forever. Louis just rolls along with all of it, his body being ridden in the most beautiful way.

Harry lets go of Louis’ thighs then and leans forward to grip his hips, pushing his own hips upright, the muscles in his thighs stretching and contracting as he begins to raise and lower himself over Louis’ cock, fucking himself on Louis’ body.

Louis is quite certain he’s never seen anything so spectacular as he watches Harry work himself up and down on his dick, Harry’s body continuing to move in perfect, measured rhythm. Louis looks between their bodies and stares as the base of his thick shaft comes into view on every upstroke, but then disappears, swallowed within Harry’s strong walls each time he pushes back down, and as Harry picks up the pace, Louis realizes that he can’t hold off on touching Harry any longer.

He’s ready to throw in the towel.

_Harry wins._

_Game over._

“I think we can call it a draw, Lou,” Harry says, his voice breathy and deep, responding to words Louis never spoke out loud. “I can’t wait any longer for you to touch me, either. Put your hands on me, Louis. Put your hands on me, right now.”

Louis immediately does as he’s told, reaching up and gripping Harry’s hips, both men making whimpering little cries at the contact. Louis wraps his fingers around the muscular indents at the sides of Harry’s arse, his thumbs settling into the laurel tattoos like they’ve always belonged there. Harry’s flesh feels so hot, like he’s on fire, the pads of Louis’ fingertips tingling as they sink into the soft skin.

Louis was right; the way that it feels to finally be holding onto the milky flesh of the man he loves was worth the denial and the wait. Touching Harry is everything.

Harry slides his hands up Louis’ chest and grips onto his shoulders, his upper body hovering over Louis as he begins to ride him faster, harder: sinking down onto him and lifting his body over and over until both are crying out loudly in pleasure. He clenches hard and Louis could scream, Harry’s tight walls clamping onto Louis’ cock like a vice and then letting go. It’s all so perfect and so intense and Louis feels like he’s just taking it, completely devoid of any power in this sex romp.

“You were right, Haz,” he mumbles, his words slurring together. “I don’t know if I’m fucking you or you’re fucking me.” Harry lets out a breathy little laugh and clenches again and Louis is pretty certain that he is the one being fucked.

After another minute or two of just laying there helpless, watching as Harry maintains full control, Louis gets a bit of his bearings back and begins to meet him halfway, lifting his hips to buck up against Harry’s as Harry lowers himself down, the sensations derived as they meet in the middle so overwhelming that Louis feels weightless and dizzy.

He’s getting close.

There is a crackling electricity in Louis’ groin and each time he thrusts his cock upwards to greet Harry sinking down upon it, he feels the storm inside him swell and surge, his body vibrating in anticipation of release.

“Lou,” Harry pants out and then he raises his hips, sliding nearly all the way off Louis’ cock before crashing back down again, Louis thrusting up just in time, their bodies smacking together deliciously. Louis is buried so deep in Harry and the electric hurricane is roiling in his groin again, swirling in such tight circles that Louis is cast adrift, shooting stars in the sky, breaking waves all around, every ridiculous metaphor overused and come to life… or death.

Louis drags his fingertips across Harry’s abdomen, stopping just short of his dick. “Are you going to come without me touching you, Harry?” Louis asks, his voice raw. Harry nods his head rapidly and even though their bodies are moving so hard and so fast, Harry still manages to press forward, affixing his lips against Louis’ and kissing him soft and sure: the calm in the eye of the storm.

“I’m ready. I’m ready. So ready,” Louis pants against Harry’s lips, repeating his words over and over as the feeling overtakes him, as he begins to give in to it all, and then Harry’s lips are dragging along his cheek and then he’s softly biting on Louis’ earlobe and whispering, “I’m ready, too, Louis. I’m ready, too.”

Harry pushes himself back then, grabbing Louis’ hands as he sits upright and then once again changes his movements: returning to the slow, undulating hip rolls that leave Louis’ positively breathless. Louis can’t help but continue to thrust, driving into Harry’s teetering hips one, two, three, more times and then Harry’s walls are closing in around him painfully tight and Harry is moaning out Louis’ name and coming all over his own chest, striping his beautiful torso in thick, white liquid trails that splatter on the wings of the butterfly, just as Louis arches off the bedding, pleasure rushing through him as he fills Harry deep inside with his own, heavy release.

They continue rocking as they ride out their orgasms and finally, when they are utterly spent, Harry falls forward and literally collapses onto Louis. Louis immediately wraps his arms around him and holds Harry close, both their chests rising and falling, the air around them musky and heavy with the smell of sex.

They don’t move at first. Instead, Louis and Harry lay completely motionless, melded together on the pile of bedding, relishing the moment.

“Love you so much, Lou,” Harry says, his voice thick with exhaustion. “The way you make me feel. I’ll never get over it. It’s everything when I’m with you.”

“Everything,” Louis weakly repeats, his body completely drained. He drags his fingertips up Harry’s back and then cards them through his hair, scratching Harry’s scalp. Harry makes a soft, appreciative humming sound at Louis’ touch. “I feel the same, darling. I feel the same.”

After another minute, Louis grabs his base and carefully pulls out and Harry squirms at the loss, burrowing into Louis closer, his thighs wrapped around Louis’ own. Harry is holding on so tight and Louis knows he is trying to keep their connection strong as he lazily kisses at Louis’ chest, not even bothering to lift his head or change his position while he presses his lips into Louis’ skin, the come from Harry’s release now smeared between them.

Louis reaches and grabs a hand towel that Harry left by the side of the bedding and he slides it between their bodies in an attempt to clean them both.

“Don’t want to be marked up with my Grade-A semen, hmm?” Harry teases.

“Well if it wasn’t so sticky I’d stay covered in your mess forever, Harold,” Louis answers, and he can feel the way that Harry smiles against his skin before yawning loudly.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” Harry says on exhale. “M’so tired all of a sudden.” He rubs his cheek against Louis’ pec and gently nips at the muscle adding, “You wore me out, Louis.”

“I wore you out?” Louis questions on a laugh. He gently prods Harry’s ribs with his index finger. “You wouldn’t let me touch you, you made me wait so long I was positively desperate to feel you, and then, when I was finally allowed, I was utterly knackered from the chase! I swear to god, Harry, the way you were rolling your hips... I’ve never seen anything more gorgeous. You rode me so hard. I’m the one who should be exhausted here.”

“Mm hmm…” Harry offers, not quite in agreement, but not in contradiction either. “It was so much fun, yeah?”

Louis cannot help but grin.

“It was, love. It was so much fun.” He clears his throat then, his voice soft when he adds, “You’re the best I’ve ever had… of any and everything, Harry. There is no one better than you. I still can’t believe you’re real.” Harry squeezes Louis’ shoulders.

“Loooouis,” he whispers, and Louis can practically feel Harry’s blush burning into his own skin. “ _You’re_ the best of everything.”

They lay in silence for another long beat; their bodies barely moving save for Louis’ fingers, which continue to gently stroke through Harry’s hair, Louis’ heart beating in his chest at the love he feels. He knows they need to get up, that their time in this cozy little love den is running short, but he’s just so incredibly comfortable and, as is Harry, Louis is also suddenly unbelievably tired.

“We should probably get up, Haz. I’m so bloody exhausted that I’m afraid I might fall asleep. We can’t be late getting back to the Review Center.”

“Mmmm…” Harry mumbles. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We won’t be late. I set a sex alarm to make sure we get up on time.”

Louis cannot help the loud bark of a laugh that escapes his lips. He sits partially upright, propping himself on his elbows, Harry nonetheless motionless on top of him, a perfect, dead weight on Louis’ chest.

“What in bloody hell is a ‘sex alarm’, Hazza?” he asks, then snorts another laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Reluctantly, Harry pushes himself up, just as Louis collapses back on the pillow. Harry folds his hands on Louis’ chest and then props his chin upon them to stare into Louis’ eyes.

“Well,” Harry starts, “you know that we’ve needed alarms nearly every time we’re together. We’d never make it back to the Review Center after lunch if I didn’t set an alarm.” Harry leans forward then, pecking Louis softly on the lips. “I get distracted when I’m with you, Lou. So while I was getting ready for our Do-over, I set an alarm so that if we got too… carried away… we could hurry things along and still have time for our bath… because I really want to get you in that Jacuzzi tub.”

Louis bites his bottom lip, shaking his head and grinning.

“How much time did you figure we would need for the Jacuzzi, Haz?” he questions.

“I set the alarm for 4:30. That will give us nearly an hour to soak in the tub before we have to leave.”

“That’s really nice, love,” Louis comments, because it is. The fact that Harry wants to make sure that he has enough time to take a leisurely bath with Louis before they have to go and face their verdicts makes Louis feel warm all over. “I wonder what time it is now?” Louis asks, although he feels much too tired and lazy to actually get up and find out. Harry stretches his arm, shifting his body to reach the windowsill and then snatches his wristwatch, which sits on its ledge.

“It’s five after four, Lou,” he answers, and then he burrows himself back against Louis’ chest. “We can take a little catnap, yeah?” He yawns on the last words and Louis immediately follows suit.

 _Two more hours_ , Louis thinks, but he doesn’t allow his brain to further expand on that worrisome thought because he’s suddenly barely able to keep his eyes open.

The thing is, Louis is bloody exhausted. He’s emotionally spent from the drama of the previous day, wrung out from lack of sleep and this morning’s Review session, and completely drained from the two most intense sexual episodes he’s ever experienced. He’s quite certain that the minute he gives in and closes his eyes; he’ll be fast asleep. By the way that Harry is already breathing even and slow against Louis’ neck, Louis is positive that he’s in the same state.

“Just a little catnap, then?” Louis asks, pressing his lips into Harry’s hair. Harry nods his head in agreement, but doesn’t lift it off Louis’ shoulder, instead, he snuggles in closer and Louis feels so content and comfortable as he starts to relax into the welcome pull of sleep, his thoughts becoming muddled as they often tend to before he passes out completely. It’s as if his brain is settling in and helping him along to that space of total mindless relaxation and rest.

_“That’s what happens when an Intake goes back to Earth: they suddenly feel very tired and they go to sleep and then they just… Poof! The just disappear, Louis.”_

Donald’s words from the night before ring out in Louis’ mind like the loud clamoring of a bell and Louis’ eyes pop open wide.

_“Prior to going under, you might feel a bit confused, or even outright disoriented, but you’ll simply climb into bed or take a seat in a comfortable chair and go to sleep. Your soul’s transition from the person you are now to the person you will next be takes place while you are unconscious...”_

This time, Chief Justice Wen’s voice plays in Louis’ ears and Louis lets out a loud gasp and quickly rolls out from beneath Harry, his movements so fast that Harry falls forward onto the bedding with a thump, completely startled out of his own sleep state. Louis jumps up, his heart pounding in his chest as he bends forward, cradling his face in his hands, utterly terrified.

“Louis! What is it?” Harry asks. He sits upright on his knees, his expression confused at being jarred awake so suddenly and also frightened by the sight of Louis looking so panicked before him.

 _Harry_.

Louis hadn’t even considered how this unexpected meltdown might look to Harry. He takes a deep breath and stands upright and then turns to him, trying to sound calm and failing terrifically.

“It’s nothing, darling. I’m so sorry that I disturbed you. Y-you should lie back down and go to sleep… I-I’m just not feeling very tired, so I think I’ll stay up.”

Harry stands up then and walks the two steps over to Louis, wrapping his arms around him.

“Louis, please tell me what happened, just now. Why are you so frightened love?”

Louis swallows thickly.

“I just… I just don’t feel like sleeping, is all,” Louis tries. “I promise, I-I’m okay, Haz. Go have a little rest and then after, we’ll share that bath, yeah?”

Harry looks Louis over, studying him carefully, his eyes searching Louis’ face as if he’s trying to read him, as if he’s trying desperately to glean insight into this sudden, bizarre behavior. But then, in an obvious dawn of recognition, Harry’s eyes go wide and he draws in a breath and Louis just knows: he’s absolutely certain that Harry _knows_. Louis is confident that Harry’s Review started with the same type of verdict rundown that Louis’ did, that Harry is aware of how Intakes transition back to Earth, and that he knows that the prospect of going to sleep and potentially beginning that transition is what has Louis so afraid. Louis doesn’t even question that Harry understands, because he reads flickers of these very thoughts passing through Harry’s mind, the two still mentally connected like they were when they were making love, albeit to a much lesser degree.

“Louis,” Harry says, his voice soft. He puts his hand on Louis’ cheek, his fingertips barely grazing Louis’ skin. “It’s going to be all right, sweetheart. I promise.”

Louis looks down because he cannot bear to meet Harry’s earnest gaze. He’s so ashamed for once again spoiling a special moment between them. They should be snuggling close, enjoying a little bit of respite before they have to go back to the Review Center, but Louis ruined all of that with his never-ceasing worry.

“You didn’t ruin anything, Lou,” Harry whispers and Louis chokes in a heavy breath, trying to contain a sob from escaping his throat because he and Harry are so close that they actually share thoughts and if Louis is sent back to Earth, this wonderful, wordless connection will be broken forever.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Louis replies. “I’m so sorry.”

“Louis, I want you to stop apologizing right now,” Harry chastises, his voice firm, but gentle. He hooks his index finger beneath Louis’ chin and carefully raises it, forcing Louis to look at him. “I want to know _everything_ you’re thinking, remember? Your cares and worries are _my_ cares and worries, too.”

“Harry,” Louis mumbles. “I –”

“And for the record, I don’t feel much like a nap, either,” Harry interjects and his smile is genuine when he adds, “I don’t want to spend any of our Do-Over together sleeping. What a boring waste of time! Come on, love; let’s move the furniture back and then I’ll start the bath.”

“Harry, are you sure?” Louis asks, although he has no doubt that Harry is fully dedicated to foregoing a much-needed rest to comfort Louis.

“Absolutely,” Harry answers and then he kisses the tip of Louis’ nose. “Let’s hurry along,” he says, extending his hand to Louis’ and directing him to the kitchenette and bar area where they earlier relocated the living area’s furnishings. “My sore arse could really use a good soak.”

Louis shakes his head and bites back a grin.

“Dirty boy.”

They slip on their pajama bottoms and get to work and within ten minutes, all of the furnishing are back in the sunken living area where they belong and Harry has carried all of the bedding back into the bedroom and left it folded in a neat pile at the foot of the bed. Louis is putting the flower vases back on the coffee table when Harry approaches, carrying the football.

“Guess we’ll have to leave this here, Lou. I don’t think we’re supposed to bring sporting equipment to the next realm.”

Louis nods in agreement, offering Harry a small smile. He takes the ball from him, spinning it in his hands.

“I still can’t believe you did this for me, Haz. I was so surprised when you kicked this ball over to me. Bringing me this football… well, it was so thoughtful, darling. Besides being with you, this football was just what I needed.”

“Well, _I_ still can’t believe you nearly kicked this ball through the window, Louis,” Harry teases, tapping his knuckles on the top of the ball lightly. Louis grins and nudges him in the shoulder.

They’re getting ready to turn and head toward the bedroom when there is a knock on the door to the suite.

“Who do you suppose that is?” Harry asks, but then Louis remembers that he ordered a second room service delivery when he placed their earlier order and so he asks Harry to go start their bath, telling him it’s a little surprise.

“You’ve a surprise for me?” Harry questions.

“Well, I can promise it’s nothing like all of the wonderful things you’ve done for me, Haz. It’s just a little something to have in our bath.”

“All right, then,” Harry answers and he tries to hold back his smile but then he grins widely, his dimples popping on his cheeks.

“It takes so little to make you happy, darling,” Louis laughs shaking his head.

“All it takes is you, Lou,” Harry replies matter-of-factly and then he turns around and heads to the bedroom, just as there is another knock on the door.

Louis opens it to find a stocky man in his early thirties with jet-black hair and dark brown skin, his nametag reading, _Reghie_. Reghie pushes a small cart, on top of which sits a tray with a crystal decanter filled with an amber liquid, two cordial glasses, and a platter of chocolate covered strawberries: half drizzled with caramel and sea salt, the other half adorned with swirls of white chocolate.

“Good afternoon, mate,” Louis greets and then he eyes the cart. Everything looks amazing and he’s quite pleased with himself for ordering up a little afternoon ‘nightcap’ for him and Harry to enjoy while they soak in the Jacuzzi bath.

“Oh! I see you’ve got a football,” Reghie exclaims pointing to the football in Louis’ hands, completely forgetting his bellhop duties. “Footie is my favorite sport!”

“Yeah?” Louis asks. He looks down at the ball and thinks about how thrilled he was that Harry gave it to him, how much it meant to be able to get lost in the mindless activity of running drills and passing it back and forth with Harry, even if only for a short while. “Mine too,” he answers, offering Reghie a friendly smile. “I love football.”

Briefly, Louis’ mind flashes on a sudden and random worry that if he’s sent back to Earth he might not get to play football in his next life. He may not even _like_ the sport. If Louis is sent back to Earth, he’ll be a completely different person with totally different interests than the person he is now, enjoys.

But far worse than forgetting his love of football, the new person he’ll next become won’t remember Harry, won’t even recognize him, or know him at all, much less love him. _God, I don’t want to forget Harry_. Just the idea of not remembering the beautiful man with the kind heart and chestnut curls is horrifying.

“We have some great pitches here in Judgment City,” Reghie replies, pulling Louis out of his morbid thoughts. “I play a couple times a week up at Shepherdshire, myself. Don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but if you haven’t, you should definitely check it out. It’s small, but the grounds are wonderful.”

“I’ve played there!” Louis answers. “It’s a great arena.”

“Well, maybe you’ll get the chance to play there again during your stay, and I might even see you out on the pitch,” Reghie offers, his voice happy.

“Actually, today is my Verdict Day. I don’t know that I’ll get the chance to play there again anytime soon,” Louis replies, his own voice tinged with worry.

“Oh, well… I wish you the best of luck on your verdict, sir,” Reghie replies. He pushes the little cart into the entranceway of Harry’s suite and is turning to leave when a thought strikes Louis.

“Do you know Donald – from The Regency?” Louis asks. Reghie turns around, his face breaking into a wide grin.

“Know him? Donald is one of my best mates! He’s teaching me to paint! We play footie together once a week,” Reghie adds.

“He’s my concierge,” Louis replies, and he suddenly realizes that he might not get to see Donald again. Donald took the morning off, no doubt to nurse a brutal hangover, and Louis really wants to get a message to him because Donald has always been so kind to Louis. Louis thinks about Donald’s painful revelations during their miserable dinner together last night and he realizes that he wants nothing but the best for his friend and he wants Donald to know just that.

“Um. I’m not sure I’ll see Donald again… after my decision is read, I mean,” Louis says, his voice stilted. He suddenly feels anxious, like he did when he was talking to Marta earlier, desperate to convey complex feelings and emotions in a small window of time. “When you next see Donald… will you tell him that Louis says ‘thank you for everything’?” He takes a deep breath and continues. “Please tell him I appreciate all of the kindness he’s shown me during my stay and that I hope he finds happiness, because he truly deserves it.”

Reghie looks at Louis in surprise at first and then his face softens. “Of course, sir. I’d be honored to share your message.” He runs his fingers through his hair and looks skyward as if not sure he should say what he’s about to next, but then he looks Louis in the eyes and voices his thoughts. “I want Donald to finds happiness, too. It’s so kind of you to encourage him in that, sir.”

Louis feels a weight lifted off his shoulders and he shakes Reghie’s hand and Reghie nods his head in acknowledgement and then turns, stepping outside of the doorway and into the small corridor outside the penthouse suite. Louis looks at the football in his hands and then smiles, sure of what he needs to do next.

Reghie is walking toward the lifts and is reaching out to press the _Down_ button when Louis steps just one foot out of Harry’s suite and calls out to him.

“Reghie!” he says, his voice echoing in the corridor to the penthouse suites.

Reghie turns around and Louis drops the football to the ground, hooking his ankle around the ball to still it, and then he kicks it to him. Reghie’s eye’s go wide and it’s like he’s immediately snapped into game play: he captures the ball with his left foot, expertly kicking it upwards and then catching it in his hands.

“Wow! You’re very quick on your feet,” Louis comments.

“Thank you, sir,” Reghie replies. “I really do love the sport.” He goes to drop the ball and kick it back to Louis, but Louis puts his hands up to stop him.

“You keep it,” Louis says, with a smile. “I know that I can’t take it with me, regardless of where I go,” he adds sadly. “Enjoy, mate.”

Reghie clutches the ball to his chest.

“You’re very kind. Thank you, sir,” he responds. He tosses the ball up in the air just as the lift doors open, and then he steps onboard and disappears inside. Louis turns back into the suite, considering the food cart for a moment before deciding what to do next.

At first, Louis thinks he might push the little cart that carries the dessert tray all the way through Harry’s bedroom and into the en suite, but then he decides against it, wishing to make a more dramatic entrance. Instead, Louis picks up the tray in both hands and then slides his left hand beneath the cool silver platter, resting it upon his fingertips as if he’s a waiter in a five star restaurant, carefully balancing the elevated tray as he makes his way towards Harry’s bedroom and bath.

The doors to Harry’s bedroom are open and Louis walks in, nearly tripping over Harry’s shoes just inside the entranceway, but he manages to keep the tray upright as he traverses the floor to Harry’s en suite. Those doors are closed and Louis has to carefully turn the handle and push the right door open with his free hand while attempting to keep the heavy tray balanced with his left. But then he almost drops the tray and has to grab onto to it to prevent its contents from sliding off and crashing to the floor when he steps into the bathroom and sees the sight before him, a loud laugh threatening to escape his lips.

Harry has created an enchanting little scene; there is no doubt about that. The candles that were in the bedroom have been moved to the bathroom and they are placed on the countertop and on the wide ledge at the back of the Jacuzzi tub, all of them alight and emitting a warm, flickering glow. The overhead lights are turned down to the point they are barely detectible, the space inviting and romantic, not to mention that the scented bubble bath that Harry has used in the tub smells positively decadent. The entire en suite smells of vanilla beans and honeysuckle and the scent is heady and delicious.

But it’s the bath itself that has Louis choking back a laugh. The Jacuzzi jets are whirring in full force, the soft sound of the tub’s motor resonating throughout the room, and the water in the tub is moving at rapid speed. But it would appear that Harry may have used a bit… too much… bubble bath when he got the tub ready, because there is a thick, foamy cloud of bubbles measuring at least a half a meter in height suspended above the water level and spilling over the sides of the bath onto the marble floor below.

Louis sets his tray down on the bathroom counter, his plans for an impressive entrance cast aside in favor of watching amusedly as Harry leans over the tub, helplessly patting down the bubbles as if trying to get them under control, completely unaware that Louis has even entered the cozy space.

“That’s a lot of bubbles, Haz,” Louis says, laughter evident in his voice. Harry immediately jerks his attention from the tub, turning to Louis, and he lets out a chuckle of his own.

“I may have gotten a bit carried away,” he concedes. “I blame the jets!” He holds up his hands, pointing his index fingers in the air and spinning them in a whirling motion. “I poured the bubble bath in while the water was running, turned up the jets, and everything was fine at first. But then… well, it started getting really… bubbly and I couldn’t make it stop!” Louis walks over to him and runs his fingertips up and down Harry’s spine.

“Is there a speed setting, love? Maybe we can turn the jets down… or off.”

“I wanted you to be able to enjoy the jets,” Harry pouts. “They’re very relaxing.”

“Well, we’ll just turn them down, is all,” Louis answers, touched that Harry wants him to be able to bask in the full Jacuzzi experience, despite the swirling bubble cloud the jets have produced.

Harry reaches over and turns the jets to the lowest setting and after another minute of him and Louis both tamping down the bubbles, they’re low enough so that Louis and Harry can actually get in the tub without risking being lost forever in some kind of soapy wonderland.

They stand up and face each other then, their arms covered in foam, a smattering of bubbles on each of their chests.

“Well, um…” Harry starts and he looks nervous and Louis finds it utterly endearing. “Shall we?”

Louis nods and he can feel the flush spreading on his cheeks and how is it even possible that he and Harry have now shared every intimacy and yet Louis’ heart still races this hard in his chest when he is with him? How is it possible that he’s aching to hold Harry in his arms when he’s just barely let him go?

They both slip off their pajama bottoms and Louis lets out a soft breath as his eyes rake over Harry’s body. They’ve seen each other naked a hundred times by now, but Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how gorgeous Harry is; he’s never known anyone so beautiful.

Harry lifts his leg and climbs over the wall of the tub to step inside, letting out a soft groan in response to the swirling, hot water. It’s then that Louis remembers his surprise and he turns around and retrieves the tray from the bathroom countertop.

“I ordered us up a little something, Haz,” he says, smiling shyly.

“Louis!” Harry exclaims as he settles in the bath, reaching out his arms. Louis hands the tray to him and Harry places it on the wide ledge behind him.

“What’s all this?” he asks, even though it’s quite obvious what ‘all this’ is.

“I just thought a little nightcap of sorts would be nice. I mean, obviously, those are chocolate covered strawberries.” Harry picks a strawberry coated in chocolate and drizzled in caramel off the tray just as Louis climbs into the tub, sinking down into whirling water to face him. The water is hot, but not too hot, the perfect temperature, really, and the jets blast against the sides of Louis’ torso, hips and legs, massaging his body as he settles into the bath. Harry extends one long arm and pulls Louis toward him and suddenly, Louis is straddling Harry’s lap, his thighs bracketing Harry’s as they nestle in together. Harry holds the strawberry up to Louis.

“I love chocolate covered strawberries, Lou,” he says, and then he pushes the sweetened fruit towards Louis’ mouth and Louis immediately parts his lips just wide enough to take a bite. Louis cannot help himself; his eyes momentarily flutter shut as the flavors come to life: the rich combination of smooth chocolate and salty caramel combined with the sweet fruit melding on his tongue.

“So good, Haz –” he starts, but before he can finish his thought, Harry is feeding him the rest of the fruit, and then Harry’s lips are pressed against his own and he’s sliding his tongue into Louis’ mouth, licking the chocolate and caramel off Louis’ tongue before humming in approval.

“So good,” Harry agrees and Louis cannot help but smile as he wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and draws their bodies closer together.

“So good,” Louis whispers as their lips smack together again and again.

“Did you bring us whiskey?” Harry asks, pointing to the decanter sitting on the silver tray next to the strawberries, their chocolate coating already starting to soften and melt in the hot, steamy atmosphere of the en suite. Louis smiles and shakes his head and then reaches over to the ledge of the tub. He lifts the stopper off the crystal vessel and then fills the two cordial glasses with the amber liquid contained within, passing one to Harry and then taking the other in his own hand.

“Amaretto,” Louis offers. “It’s a nice dessert drink. I thought you might like it.”

“Well, let’s have a toast then,” Harry suggest, raising his glass so that it is almost touching Louis’.

Louis is so utterly comfortable, the hot water of the bath is soothing and the pulsing water pushed through the jets is massaging his body, making him feel loose and pliant and sitting here, straddling Harry’s lap while they share chocolate kisses and sip from fancy crystal glasses is one of the most romantic moments he’s ever experienced.

“What shall we drink to, Hazza?” Louis asks.

“The same thing we drank to earlier, Louis,” Harry responds. “The only thing that matters. Let’s have another toast to us.”

“To us,” Louis agrees and the two men clink their glasses together and then take a long pull from their drinks.

The amaretto is rich and warm, traces of almond dancing over Louis’ tongue as he swallows the drink down. It’s unbelievably delicious and both he and Harry make pleased little sounds as the liquor glides down their throats. Louis picks up another strawberry, this one laced in white chocolate drizzles, and he feeds it to Harry, but the dark chocolate coating is melting and it’s smeared all over Louis’ fingers and thumb. Harry takes two bites before swallowing the remainder of the fruit and as Louis goes to pull his hand away, Harry grabs it and stills it within his own and then with great purpose he begins to lick the chocolate off Louis’ fingertips and Louis draws in a deep breath because the sight is so unbelievable sexy: Harry’s pillowy raspberry lips sucking on the pads of Louis’ fingers, scooping chocolate onto his velvet tongue.

“You’re going to make me hard again, Hazza,” Louis breathes, already feeling the familiar tingle in his groin.

“Mmmm,” Harry replies, nodding his head. He leans forward and his breath is hot and smells of sweet almonds and chocolate when he whispers in Louis’ ear. “Felt so incredible riding you, Louis. I loved the way you made love to me, and some day, I’m going to make love to you, too.”

Louis cannot help the groan that escapes his lips, because he fully supports this idea. In fact, he stands behind it one hundred percent. Pushing into Harry slow and deep was the greatest pleasure Louis has ever known, but he also is yearning for the feeling of Harry pushing in to _him_. Harry’s cock is huge and beautiful and while Louis has always preferred topping, he knows that when he’s ready to bottom, Harry will be gentle with him and that the experience will be incredible.

“Want that so much,” he answers. “I want everything with you.” He sets his cordial glass on the tub’s wide ledge and Harry does the same and before Louis even knows what is happening they are kissing each other gently, their lips barely brushing but then, Harry flickers his tongue against Louis’ lips and deepens the kiss and almost immediately it becomes heated and the two are rutting against each other desperately, the water lapping around them as Harry rolls his hips upwards and Louis grinds down upon them.

“How many times can a person come in one day?” Louis pants out, just as Harry wraps his large hand around Louis’ dick and begins stroking slowly upwards. The water is pulsing against Louis’ groin and that combined with Harry’s fingers gliding up and down his shaft feels so incredible that Louis knows he’s not going to last long. He’s still spent from his previous orgasm and can barely believe Harry has gotten him on edge again, so quickly.

He reaches out his own hand and wraps it around Harry’s thick length and the two begin pulling each other off in perfect time, Louis resting his forehead against Harry’s as electricity pulses through his dick and reverberates throughout his body.

“I’ve lost count,” Harry replies. “But I think this will make five.”

Louis starts to laugh at that, but the laughter quickly dies in his throat when he feels Harry’s fingertips slide under his balls, fingering the soft sack. He collapses forward then, his free hand wrapped behind Harry’s neck, his cheek burrowing against Harry’s own. Both men pant and jerk as they bring each other to climax, the entire encounter lasting but a few minutes from start to finish before they are breathing heavily and coming down from the explosive intensity of their orgasms.

“Well, now we’re soaking in our own jizz, Haz,” Louis mumbles breathily against Harry’s shoulder before pulling himself upright to plant a series of sweet kisses on Harry’s mouth.

“This tub holds at least five hundred gallons of water, Louis. I think the jizz-to-water ratio is such that it’s safe for us to continue our bath. Plus, it’s no doubt swirled into nothing by these jets,” he laughs, and then he reaches over and pushes a button on the back of the tub, turning the jets up to the medium setting.

“Jizz-to-water ratio?” Louis questions, his voice teasing. “So, in addition to being a brilliant literary scholar, you’re also a semen scientist and mathematician. What _can’t_ you do, Harry Styles?”

Harry bites his lip, considering.

“I’m terrible with plants,” he giggles and Louis raises an eyebrow and shakes his head because sometimes Harry is so adorable he doesn’t think he can take it. “I’ve never had a green thumb and I’ve pretty much murdered every houseplant I’ve tried to grow, even a cactus that my mum assured me was ‘unkillable’,” and he makes air quotes on the last word.

“The beautiful Harold has a fault,” Louis sighs dramatically, shaking his head. Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, pulling him in closer.

“I’m actually pretty good with plants,” Louis comments. “I helped my mum tend her gardens when I was growing up and I had quite a few plants when I got my own place. That’s the only thing I really wanted in the divorce, actually: the houseplants. I knew Eleanor was clueless as to how to take care of them and that they’d be dead within days of me moving out. Poor Liam was probably so happy when I finally found my own flat and moved out of his because I took my jungle with me,” he adds on a laugh.

“Louis,” Harry whispers, his voice sweet. “I love learning new things about you.” Louis runs his thumb along Harry’s cheekbone.

“Me too, love,” Louis answers. He clears his throat. “Here’s another thing, then. I’m a terrible cook, an absolute disaster in the kitchen. I do know how to pour a proper bowl of cereal, but I don’t think that counts.” Harry grins and squeezes Louis’ hips.

“Well, I’m quite a decent cook, and you already know that I want to study to learn how to be better. So, let’s make a deal that when we advance, I’ll do all of the cooking and you’ll take care of our houseplants. How does that sound, Lou?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Louis answers and then he leans forward and hugs Harry tightly because he needs to be close to him, and more so, because he doesn’t want Harry to see the worry that he knows has taken over his expression.

 _This can’t be the end_.

Louis wants Harry to cook for him, but more than that, Louis wants to plant an entire garden of flowers and dedicate every one of them to Harry. He’s just not so sure he’ll get that chance. He takes a deep breath, because he needs to tell Harry about his morning Review session. He has to be honest with him and let him know that there is a very real possibility that their future together is only going to last a couple more hours, but the thought of doing so is making his heart ache in his chest.

“Wash my hair?” Harry quietly asks, immediately drawing Louis out of his thoughts and when Louis pulls back to look at him, he sees the hint of concern etched in Harry’s features.

“Of course, darling,” Louis answers, “I’d love to.” He turns on the faucet and checks the temperature, making sure it’s not too hot or too cold and then he reaches for the acrylic pitcher that sits on the far ledge of the tub, filling it to the lip. Harry scoots to the center of the bath and Louis positions himself behind him, spreading his legs and hooking them over Harry’s own, which are extended and bent in front of his body. At first, Louis just runs his fingers through Harry’s hair because it’s so soft and he wants to be able to touch Harry’s curls forever. But then, Harry tilts his head back and Louis kisses the crown before cupping his hand over Harry’s forehead. He lifts the filled pitcher off the ledge and then carefully begins pouring the water over Harry’s tresses; gently carding his fingers through Harry’s hair to make sure it’s saturated from root to tip. He squirts a dollop of shampoo into his hands then and begins to massage it into Harry’s scalp and Harry smiles and wriggles his shoulders, making a little contented sound at Louis’ touch. Louis carefully rinses Harry’s hair and then conditions it and rinses it again, all the while keeping Harry’s face shielded from the dripping water and bubbles. When he’s finished, Harry sits up and turns to Louis, offering him a soft smile.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, just the hint of sadness evident in his tone.

“My pleasure,” Louis whispers.

“Your turn,” Harry prompts.

They turn and face the opposite direction so that Louis is now sitting in front and Harry is in back and then they repeat the process, Harry now washing Louis’ hair. Louis closes his eyes and tries to memorize ever stroke of Harry’s fingertips over his scalp, the gentle way he works the shampoo into a rich lather, the trail of wet kisses that linger on Louis’ neck after the soap bubbles have been rinsed away. When Harry finishes, they drag soapy loofahs over each other’s bodies, both men quiet and reverent as they wash and care for one another.

The temperature in the tub is starting to cool a bit, so Harry drains several inches and then refills the bath with fresh, hot water, and when it’s full and the jets are bubbling, Louis leans back against the rear wall of the tub and pulls Harry into his arms so that Harry’s back is flush against Louis’ chest. They are quiet for several long minutes, both fully aware that they’ll need to get out of the bath soon and leave this cozy, safe space, and then Louis reaches over and turns off the jets so that the room is quiet, save for the sound of the water lapping around them. Louis closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, because the moment he’s been trying to stay in all afternoon is nearing its end and now, _it’s time_.

“Haz,” Louis starts, his voice nervous and cracking. He clears his throat and steels himself, his voice a little stronger and surer when he continues. “I think we should talk about this morning’s Reviews.”

Harry doesn’t say anything at first and Louis can’t see his face, so he’s not sure what Harry is thinking, until he speaks up.

“Okay,” Harry answers carefully. But then his voice sounds more upbeat when he adds, “Um. But can I tell you about mine first, Lou? I think you’ll really like what happened.”

“Of course, Harry,” Louis replies, relieved. As much as he needs to tell Harry about his own miserable Review, he’ll take this reprieve before he has to share with him that his cowardly actions the night before might very well send Louis back to Earth. “What happened in your Review, love?”

“Well,” Harry starts. “My Review was about you, Louis.”

Louis immediately stiffens and he feels a wave of panic wash over him. Dear god, what a cruel universe if Harry’s Review involved the same humiliating clip of Louis denying him his love that was screened during Louis’ session. It’s terrible enough that Harry had to endure that rejection and heartbreak once; Louis cannot bear the idea that he had to suffer it again.

Harry turns around and faces Louis.

“Hey,” he says and he cups his hand on Louis’ cheek. “It’s good. I promise. Everything is good when it comes to you, Louis. Please don’t be upset.”

Louis blinks rapidly and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, darling. I’m just being silly,” he offers and then he forces a weak smile. Harry studies him carefully for a moment before pressing a kiss to Louis’ lips.

“I promise you, it’s really good, Lou. You’ll want to hear.”

Louis swallows and nods his head for Harry to continue. Harry stays turned in Louis’ arms so that they can face each other and he takes Louis’ hands into his own and he squeezes them before offering him a tentative, yet genuine smile.

“My clip was about the note, Louis,” Harry whispers. Louis eyes open wide in surprise and he can feel a small smile breaking out on his own lips at the significance of that little piece of paper, relief flooding his body.

“The sticky note?” he asks and Harry nods, his smile expanding until his dimple is on full display and as he’s done so many times before, Louis just has to slide his hand up and press his thumb into the soft indent. Harry’s long fingers wrap over Louis’ smaller hand and as _he’s_ done so many times before, Harry drags Louis’ hand to his mouth and kisses his palm. Louis is so in love he thinks he might dissolve into the very bath water they are soaking in.

“The clip started with Mika and me having another one of our terrible arguments. Mika was saying really cruel things about me and I didn’t know what to do and so I left our flat. I told you I always needed to be alone after a fight, yeah?” Harry asks and Louis nods his head, remembering their conversation from the night before when Harry told him that whenever he got angry or upset on Earth he would need to take some time and be by himself to collect his thoughts. Louis also remembers Harry telling him that he didn’t feel that way with Louis and the fact that Harry needed to get away from Mika, but chose to _go_ to Louis after an argument causes a burst of love to thrum in his chest.

“I remember, darling,” Louis answers.

“Well, I always needed to be alone after an argument, but I’d never walked out in the actual _middle_ of one, and Mika was literally in the middle of a sentence when I just up and left.”

“My brave boy,” Louis says, because he feels so proud of Harry for standing up for himself and refusing to listen to any more of Mika’s harsh words toward him.

“I don’t know about that,” Harry answers, ducking his head, but then he returns his eyes to Louis’. “Anyway, the clip faded to black after I slammed the door to our flat, and while I was watching it I felt just as angry as I did when the fight occurred. I also felt quite satisfied to be the one storming out for a change. It’s so surreal how real those clips are, Lou.”

Louis nods his head in agreement because the experience of watching the Review clips has been like being literally immersed in one’s past; the moments presented onscreen and the feelings that go with those moments so intense that they are actually overwhelming, both emotionally and physically.

“When the clip came back to life I was in the vintage book store I told you about.”

“In Holborn,” Louis says, remembering that Harry found the note in Louis’ own neighborhood. Harry smiles and nods his head.

“Yep. In your very own backyard, Louis.” Louis bites his lip because Harry was right, he _does_ want to hear about Harry’s Review. He wants to hear about it very much.

Harry continues.

“So, I was in the bookstore and my cell rang and of course it was Mika and you could hear both sides of our conversation in the Review, Louis, and it was so odd, seeing our conversation that way because Mika’s voice was just as loud and clear as mine. Anyway, I didn’t get any kind of apology for the things Mika had said to me before I left home. In fact, I got another lecture about how I was a ‘drama queen’ and weak, and how I overreacted and that I needed to come home and set things right.”

“Bloody hell, Harry,” Louis mumbles. He really despises this Mika person. Mika had the best man in the world in Harry and yet, Mika failed to even appreciate him. “So what did you do?”

“I hung up,” Harry answers, breaking into a wide grin. “It felt even better than when I stormed out and slammed the door! After four years of being the one to always give in… well, it was just really nice to finally be standing up for myself.”

“I’m so proud of you, darling,” Louis says and then he picks up Harry’s hand and kisses his fingertips, which are starting to prune due to being in the Jacuzzi tub for so long. Harry blushes, but he continues on.

“The film faded to black and when it came back to life it was a shot of me, from behind, walking into Sainsbury’s.”

“God, I bet your arse looked perfect in that clip, Harry,” Louis comments wistfully. He’s never seen Harry in Earth clothing and he can only begin to imagine how gorgeous his long, lean legs and firm bum looked in painted-on skinnies.

“Loooouis,” Harry laughs, and then he rolls his eyes. “I needed bananas, so I went in to _your_ local grocery shop, sweetheart.” His voice goes impossibly soft and he locks eyes with Louis when he says the next part. “The camera was on me from behind as I was walking down the aisles of the store, and then it zoomed in when I entered the cereal aisle. I was stood looking at boxes of Corn Flakes and Weetabix –”

“You were really missing out with that healthy cereal, Haz,” Louis interjects, his voice sweet, just the hint of a teasing tone. “Cocoa Puffs are the way to go.”

Harry shakes his head and smiles, leaning in to kiss Louis repeatedly on the lips before pulling back.

“Cocoa Puffs,” he repeats and his voice gets quieter still as he continues, as if the words he is telling Louis are sacred, and in fact, they are. “The camera focused on me – completely bypassing the Cocoa Puffs – by the way, and then I looked down and there it was… a slip of bright yellow paper, folded in half and just waiting for me to pick it up.”

“Oh, Harry,” Louis murmurs and he swallows thickly.

“The camera zoomed in on my hands as I unfolded the note, but what was written on it wasn’t displayed at first, instead, the camera cut to my face and I looked like I had just seen a ghost, Louis. All the color just drained from my skin and my eyes went wide and then I dropped my basket of groceries and ran out of the store, not even noticing that people were gawking at me like I was a positive nutter.”

Harry takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “It’s so funny what memory can do. That moment was one of the most important in my life and yet I remembered it as if I had maintained the utmost calm in that shop. In my mind, I didn’t have a proper breakdown until I reached my car, but seeing the replay onscreen, I realized that I was anything but calm. I ran out of that Sainsbury’s like I was fleeing a burning building.”

“Harry, when you were on Earth, you _rescued_ people from burning buildings,” Louis interjects, and Harry shakes his head and blushes.

“Well, I rushed out of there like my pants were on fire, just the same, Lou,” Harry answers and then he leans in and kisses Louis on the neck. Louis places his hands on Harry’s waist and pulls him in closer. They’re twisted and turned toward each other so that their limbs are entangled in the best possible way and for the hundredth time today, Louis can’t get over how lucky he is, nor does he want this moment to end.

“I can’t believe how wonderful you are,” Louis says and Harry answers, “I can say the exact same thing about you, Lou.” They pause for a moment and just look at each other and Louis is so scared that their time together is coming to an end, but he wants to hear about Harry’s day, so he offers him a genuine smile and then he speaks.

“So, you were leaving the store?” Louis prompts.

“Yeah, right,” Harry answers slowly, his thoughts obviously interrupted. “I ran out of there so fast. I looked positively deranged! A woman shouted after me asking if I was okay, and I never even heard her. I just had to get out of that shop and try to pull myself together, so that’s exactly what I did.”

Louis takes Harry’s hands into his own and strokes his thumbs over the soft webbing between his thumbs and index fingers while Harry continues speaking.

“Next, the shot cut to me sitting in my car and my hands were shaking, but I was holding your note, and this time, the camera zoomed in on the words that were written on that little yellow square of paper… and they were written in – ”

“Red ink,” they both say simultaneously and Harry nods, his raspberry lips turning up at the corners.

“I saw you and I fell in love,” Louis whispers, repeating the first line written on the sticky note.

“And you smiled because you knew,” Harry answers, his eyes wet, his voice thick with emotion.

“Oh, darling – ” Louis starts, but Harry interrupts him, having more to say.

“I saw your hand again, Louis. I mean – I saw the words written in your hand. Your handwriting was sharp and pretty and you’d taken special care not to write over Spiderman.”

Louis huffs a laugh at that and Harry shakes his head and then closes his eyes for a moment as if gathering his thoughts.

“Today in my Review, I got to see the handwriting again that I knew so well, Louis, and that handwriting belonged to _you_. I got to see the little sticky note that I must have held in my hands a thousand times when I was on Earth and it was so wonderful, because you held that same note in your hands, too. I carried that note in my wallet, and before that, you carried it in yours. I was so emotional watching that scene, not only with the flood of feelings that I experienced when that moment first occurred, but more so because seeing it all again just reminded me of how deeply we are connected. Our love was forged on Earth and we didn’t even know it, didn’t even know each other! And here we are, bound together forever in the Afterlife and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Louis.”

Harry closes his eyes again and it’s obvious he’s trying to get his emotions in check, but he’s losing the battle because when he opens them the tears are pooling in their corners, but he still finds his voice to say, “I would die a thousand times to know you, Louis. I’m so grateful.”

Harry does start to cry then, and Louis would wipe away Harry’s tears if he weren’t busy brushing away his own. Harry reaches out and grabs Louis’ cheeks and pulls him and kisses him with so much passion it makes Louis’ heart ache in his chest.

“Our love was forged on Earth,” Louis whispers as they pull apart and Harry nods his head, wiping his eyes.

“So then, of course, the scene was of me sobbing in my car like an idiot, but then it faded to black and when it came back into view, I was standing in the middle of the living room of my flat, and I was breaking up with Mika. Mika was furious, called me every name in the book, told me I was a quitter and a coward.”

Louis narrows his eyes because he wants nothing more than to tell Mika that Harry isn’t any of those things and that Mika is a fool. He also suddenly realizes that the argument Harry is describing is probably what Louis heard when he was stood outside Harry’s Review Room while he waited for Marcus to screen his PD5 clip.

“Mika threw me out,” Harry continues. “I only had a minute or so to grab some clothes and then I was ushered to the door. But then the clip cut to me standing outside of our flat, Louis. I stood there for several minutes and I just cried tears of relief. I was so happy. I was finally free, and I was finally free because of _you_.”

“Harry,” Louis reasons, not wanting Harry to sell his own bravery short. “I don’t doubt for a minute that you were meant to find my note. You’re my soul mate and we’re connected and it’s so incredible that you came across that little slip of paper. I was destined to write those words and you were destined to find them. But, I’m also certain you would have broken up with Mika, eventually. You were already on your way by standing up for yourself. You staking your independence was all your own doing, darling.”

“No!” Harry answers emphatically, shaking his head. “I would have gone home and made up with Mika. I was already considering doing just that when I pulled into the Sainsbury’s car park. But then I found your note and the words written upon it were words I cherished, Louis. Your note was the catalyst that I needed to encourage me to leave.” He takes a deep breath and then runs his fingers down Louis’ spine, causing Louis to shiver. “I suppose a part of me knew that the person I was truly meant to love was out there somewhere, and it was proven to me when I held that slip of paper in my hands. You were the reason I finally ended things, Louis. You were my destiny and I finally found you.”

“Oh, Harry,” Louis breathes, but he doesn’t get beyond those two words before Harry is smashing his lips against his and the two are kissing each other like it’s the only thing they were put on the universe to do. When they finally pull apart, breathless and aching, their faces wet with tears, and their chests heaving, Harry once again speaks.

“So, then the lights came up in the Review Room, and after Sam and Arnold asked me their questions, I spoke about you, Louis. I was able to tell my entire Review panel how I met my soul mate and that he was seated in the very next room, participating in his own Review. I shared how on that first day, in our advocates’ offices, we locked eyes with one another and then you whispered the second verse of that libretto to me and that the words were true for both of us. I told them how we went to the Elvis concert and then the next day at lunch we kissed in the park and shared with one another how we died.”

Louis’ heart swells in his chest as Harry continues to recount the evolution of their relationship, the way Harry showed up on the footie field to surprise Louis and how he first discovered their complimentary tattoos, the way that they were madly in love with each other from the very start.

“I shared with my panel everything about you, Louis. But best of all, when I told them that you wrote those words on that Spiderman sticky note, they all looked at me like they _understood_. I don’t even know if every member of my panel has a soul mate or not, but in the end, they all agreed that what you and I share is a miracle. They all agreed that we are destined to be together. It was… it was such a lovely experience, Louis, sharing a bit of you with all of them and I was so proud because you’re actually mine and we’re going to be together forever.”

“We’re moving forward together,” Louis whispers and he wants to believe it so badly, is desperate to believe it, in fact. Harry makes him believe anything is possible, but Louis still hasn’t told him about his own Review session and he’s scared that when Harry finds out what happened, Harry’s faith in their future together will be tested. Louis’ belief that he’s moving on to the next realm is hanging on by the thinnest of threads, if Harry’s conviction of the same falters, that tiny strand will be broken and any faith Louis has will be cast to the wind.

“We are, Louis. We are,” Harry answers, grazing the back of his index finger along Louis’ jaw.

“I-I loved hearing that, Harry,” Louis says, his voice sincere. “I’m so happy you had a good experience this morning. You deserve nothing but the best, darling.”

Harry sits up straight and scoots closer.

“Tell me about your Review, Louis,” he says, his voice careful.

Louis nods his head slowly and takes a calming breath, trying to bate his worry, and then he begins.

“Well, um… when I first arrived to my Review Room there was a hullaballoo about a motion Ileana had filed at the very last minute with my Justice Panel, but the Chief Justice said that Marcus and Ileana could argue the motion after Marcus presented his final clip, so… I guess I’ll talk about Marcus’ clip first?” Louis says, phrasing it more as a question.

Harry nods in agreement. “Just go in order of how things occurred, Louis. I want to hear everything,” and so Louis does just that.

He begins by giving Harry the back-story of the holiday office party that Eleanor missed, telling Harry how one of his male coworkers hit on him in the loo, and how that was the turning point where he knew he couldn’t deny being gay any longer.

“Marcus told me yesterday that this morning’s clip was my bravest moment, Harry, and what he showed was my coming out.”

“Oh, Louis,” Harry answers, his voice reverent. “That’s so wonderful, sweetheart. I hope it was a good experience for you, we’ve never even discussed that before,” and then he smiles sweetly. “We have so much still to learn about one another.”

“We do,” Louis agrees and then he says a silent prayer that when the day is done, they'll be granted a future where that can actually happen.

He continues telling Harry about what happened in his Review clip, sharing with him how he abruptly blurted to Eleanor that he was gay, how she was so furious with him and how deeply remorseful he felt in hurting her in such a way.

“She gave me ten minutes to gather my belongings and that was that: half a lifetime together came crashing to a halt and was completely obliterated in an instant.”

“I’m so sorry, Lou,” Harry says. “I know that must have been so difficult for both of you.”

“It was,” Louis agrees. “But it was the very best thing I could do… for both of us. I just wish I had done it years earlier. I could have spared us both so much heartache.” Louis smiles then, recalling what happened next. “So then, after I told Eleanor, I drove straight to Liam’s.”

“Your best mate,” Harry says and it’s not a question.

“Yeah, my best mate,” Louis replies.

He tells Harry about standing in the entranceway of Liam’s flat and confessing to his best friend that he was gay, and how warm and accepting Liam was and how glad it made Louis. When Louis gets to the part about accidently outing himself to half the members of his indoor football club, he and Harry laugh at the comedy of it all, particularly the way Louis was suddenly more upset that Liam didn’t invite him over for beer and pizza than he was about the way his teammates found out his truth.

“After I told Liam,” Louis continues, “I went to see the artist. I went to see Zee.”

Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise, but he doesn’t interrupt, he just listens as Louis speaks.

“I just felt I owed him that, yeah?” Louis says, letting out a long breath. “I denied that I was gay the entire time we were together, even though I was sleeping with another man, and I never told him that I loved him, and I just… I just wanted him to hear it one time.”

“Did you still love him, Louis? When you went to see him, I mean,” Harry asks and there is not judgment in his voice. Louis does, however, detect a hint of nervousness, as if Louis’ feelings for the artist could ever possibly overshadow or even compare to his feelings for Harry.

“No, darling,” Louis answers truthfully. “I was just trying to set things right.” He lets out a rueful little laugh. “Which, as it turns out was a huge mistake, because all he did was make fun of me and imply that I was only there for, and I quote, ‘another ride on his dick’.”

“That fucking bastard,” Harry huffs, his face immediately scrunched and red with anger. Louis can’t help but smile at how adorable Harry is and it’s completely beyond his control when he cups Harry’s cheeks and kisses him, slow and sweet. Louis is pretty certain that he’s kissed Harry a thousand times today and it will never be enough. Harry rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders when Louis finally breaks the kiss. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I know he was someone you cared about.” Louis bites back a grin and continues speaking.

“Oh! But the craziest part was that Zee’s lover made an appearance. They put on quite a show for me, Harry. His boyfriend was stood there totally nude, while Zee licked his neck and squeezed his arse. It was really ridiculous actually, but more than anything, it was just… sad.”

“Why was it sad, Louis?” Harry asks. “Was it because they were trying to make you jealous?”

“No, not really. What was sad was something I didn’t even notice at the time our interaction actually took place. I guess I was too caught up in my own personal drama to actually see it when I was in the moment, but watching from that Screening Chair, well, it was really obvious and it just made me feel sorry for Zee. His boyfriend… well, his boyfriend looked so much like _me_ , Harry,” Louis answers, and he can’t contain the disbelief in his voice, because the resemblance was actually quite striking.

“Impossible,” Harry scoffs dismissively.

“What’s impossible?” Louis asks, confused.

“That this boyfriend of that artist looked anything like you, Louis. There isn’t another soul who can hold a candle to you.”

“Haz,” Louis says, completely endeared. “He _did_ look like me though. Quite a bit, actually. It was like Zee was trying to find another ‘Louis’ to replace me and in that, I felt bad for him because – ” Louis stops midsentence, his heart lurching into his throat when he considers the words he’s about to say next because in the very near future, they may apply to Harry. “I felt bad for him because he should have moved on,” he says quietly and he averts his gaze, so filled with sadness that he’s unable to look Harry in the eyes.

Not for the first time today, he feels Harry nudging his chin, forcing Louis to look at him and also face his fears.

“I feel sorry for the artist too, then,” Harry replies and Louis doesn’t miss the subtext when Harry adds, “There is no one who can ever replace you, Louis. There never will be.”

Louis stares at Harry for a minute; trying to let his words sink in, trying to shake the heavy feeling that their love is nearing its physical end. But he needs to tell Harry everything.

“So then I went to my mum’s,” Louis starts and then he proceeds to tell Harry all about showing up on his mother’s doorstep and how from the moment he arrived she held him and made him feel so loved. He talks of drinking tea with her and how he flew off the handle thinking Eleanor had outed him when he in fact, once again, outed himself. He shares with Harry how wonderful his mum was and the sweet way she shared her own insights and regrets regarding Louis’ upbringing, and how in the end she just held him and made sure he knew that nothing he ever did would ever change how much she loved him or would diminish her pride in him.

“Every single time she hugged me in that clip, Haz; I felt her. It was so real and so incredible to feel her arms around me again. She always made me feel so comforted and safe.” Louis takes a moment and indulges in the memory of his mother’s touch because he wants nothing more than to feel that comfort again, right now. He’s so bloody nervous about his verdict.

 _If I’m sent back to Earth, I’ll have a new mum_ , he thinks and the thought makes his stomach clench painfully. Louis doesn’t want a new mum. He wants to keep and treasure the memory of the one he knows until the day that they meet again on this side of life.

_I don’t want to go back._

_I don’t want to go back_.

“Lou?” Harry questions and Louis is suddenly grateful that their wordless connection has dissipated a bit, although it also makes him quite sad. “I’m so glad you got that opportunity to feel close to your mum again, sweetheart. But I know that you’re upset, tell me what you’re thinking.”

“We were reading each other’s minds earlier, Harry.”

“We were,” Harry replies quietly. “But, I’ve always felt so connected to you, Louis, from the moment we met. Your thoughts just became louder and more clear when we were making love.”

“But I don’t know what you’re thinking right now,” Louis answers, and he suddenly feels so small. “I just… I don’t want our connection to end.”

 _I don’t want this to end_.

“It won’t, sweetheart. Maybe it’s something that only happens when we’re intimate, and perhaps it will grow the longer we’re together. But I’ve always been able to sense how you’re feeling, and I know you have always had that same ability with me. It’s like we’ve known each other forever, Louis.”

“Because we’re soul mates.”

“Because we’re soul mates,” Harry agrees. “And we always will be,” he adds, smiling at Louis hopefully. Louis nods and offers him a smile back that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“So… um… after my coming out clip, Marcus questioned me,” Louis says, returning to the original subject because time is running out and he has to tell Harry everything before it’s too late. “I don’t know how he did it, but Marcus managed to make me sound like an absolute hero for admitting that I was gay.”

“You were a hero,” Harry assures. “What you did was very brave, Louis. Don’t diminish how hard it was for you to stand up for yourself and own your truth. I’m so proud of you.”

“Harry –”

“What happened next?” Harry asks, not allowing Louis to discount the significance of his coming out, regardless of whether Louis is doing so simply as a means of lightening the mood through self-deprecating humor, or because he really doesn’t believe it was worthy of such praise. Harry leans forward and kisses Louis’ cheek. “You’re the best person I’ve ever known, love.”

Louis doesn’t doubt that Harry means it, because he feels the exact same way about him. But still, he’s getting close to the terrible part of his story and he can’t help the butterflies that are now flittering about in his stomach, or the way his muscles suddenly feel tense, despite the fact that he’s been soaking in a tub of hot water for nearly an hour.

“When it was Ileana’s turn to question me about the clip, she said she didn’t have anything to ask me,” Louis continues. “She told me that coming out is sacred and she would never try to belittle my experience and that what I did on that day was very brave.”

“Wow,” Harry replies, his voice surprised. “That’s so lovely, Louis, and she’s right. It _is_ sacred and your actions _were_ very brave. I’m so happy she didn’t try to take that away from you.”

“Well, she wasn’t finished with me yet, Harry. She had… she had something much bigger in store.”

Harry tilts his head in question.

“What do you mean?” he asks, just the slightest trace of worry lacing his tone.

“Well, do your remember that I said that at the start of my session there was some chaos over a motion Ileana had filed?”

“Yes,” Harry answers.

Louis feels his heart start to beat harder in his chest, because _this is it_ , he’s going to tell Harry how is own big mouth and terrible cowardice ruined everything, how his shameful fear provided Ileana the perfect argument as to why Louis doesn’t deserve to move forward.

“Well, the motion was to allow Ileana to screen a clip that hadn’t previously been submitted to the Review Panel or to Marcus to preview. Ileana called it ‘new information’ and then…” Louis pauses and takes a hitching breath. He feels the familiar tears start to prickle in his eyes, but he forces himself to continue, his voice shaking just the slightest bit. “I had to leave the room while they deliberated over the motion. The Chief Justice sent me to this little waiting area at the end of the corridor and I stayed there until Marcus came and got me and when I saw his face, Harry, I just knew it wasn’t good.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Harry whispers and Louis isn’t sure if Harry is saying it to convince Louis or himself. Harry heard Louis shouting during their morning sessions, and he was with Louis immediately after those sessions ended. He knows how serious this is and Louis can’t help but read the enormity of it all on Harry’s face. Louis’ breath starts to quicken and he’s beginning to feel panicked. He doesn’t want to tell Harry about the clip because doing so will just make it all the more real. Louis cannot bear the thought of what happened this morning being real.

 _But it was_.

“Marcus lost his objection to the motion, Harry, and Ileana was allowed to screen her clip and the worst part of it all was that she was allowed to screen the clip because it involved a subject that _I_ brought up.”

Louis winces at his own words. He studies Harry carefully and he notes that Harry’s chest is rising and falling just a little faster, just like Louis’ own. Harry’s voice cracks and his nervousness is evident and almost foreign-sounding when he asks the question, “What subject did you bring up, Louis?”

Louis looks down between their bodies, the water lapping around them. Almost all of the soap bubbles have dissipated and their naked forms are clearly visible below the water’s surface. Harry sits half on one knee, half on his bum, and his thighs are so strong and firm and Louis dips his hand into the water because he has to touch him, needs to feel the soft hair of his legs beneath his fingertips and needs to know that Harry is his for however much longer this love will last. He grips onto Harry’s thigh, right above his knee, and Harry immediately places his own hand atop Louis’ giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “Tell me sweetheart, what subject did you bring up?”

“You,” Louis whispers, his barely-there answer in utter contrast to the magnitude of the word. He ducks his head in shame, his cheeks burning with an embarrassed flush. He draws in a shuddering breath and then raises his head because Harry deserves to see his face when Louis tells him the way he destroyed everything.

“Me?” Harry asks, quietly.

“Yes… I brought up you, Harry.”

“Louis, that’s – ” Harry starts, but Louis begins talking over him.

“Yesterday’s sessions went so poorly, Harry,” Louis rushes out because he positively has to force the words or they won’t come, “and the afternoon session was by far the worst I’d had… up until this morning anyway,” he quietly adds. “Yesterday afternoon, Ileana argued that the greatest gift in the universe is love and that I rejected that when I refused to admit my feelings for Zee, and I-I wanted to prove her wrong, Harry. But more than that, I wanted to make all of them understand that I wasn’t afraid of love any more and that I would never reject love again because I had it with you. I asked the Justices if I could speak and when they agreed, I opened my stupid mouth and I told them all about you, Harry. I just wanted them to know that I was capable of loving another person and that I had someone amazing who loved me in return.”

Louis is trying to hold back his tears, but he knows they are going to fall soon. Harry shifts his position in the tub and sits next to Louis against the back wall and in one swift movement, he pulls Louis onto his lap, cradling him in his arms like Louis is a child and Louis is grateful for this raw display of love and affection because he feels so helpless and ashamed.

“I think it’s amazing that you told your panel about me, Louis,” Harry comforts. “It just shows how much you love me.” Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders and nuzzles his neck, allowing himself just a moment more of this quietude before pulling back and continuing to speak.

“Harry, I need to tell you about the clip Ileana screened. I’m just… I’m so embarrassed, Harry.” Harry furrows his brow, his eyes searching Louis’ face.

“What did she screen, Lou?” he asks, his voice careful.

“She… Shit, Harry,” Louis mumbles. He scrubs his hands over his face and then takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself and then he just lets it all out.

“The clip Ileana screened was from last night, here in your hotel suite,” he starts, the tears he’s been holding back finally breaking free and spilling down his cheeks. “I sat in that Screening Chair and then the screen came to life and I just couldn’t believe it, Harry… I-I was so shocked and upset and at first I couldn’t even move because it was so terrible. But there we were: you and I onscreen larger than life and I… I was hurting you!”

Louis’ voice is thick with tears and his words are choked and breaking, but he continues on because he needs to tell Harry what happened. Harry deserves to know how his own rejection was shared with strangers, even if it breaks Louis’ heart to tell him so. Louis caused this and he won’t make it easier on himself by not telling Harry everything.

“You were just sitting there and you looked so beautiful and so brokenhearted and I rejected you! I caused you so much pain and it was all my fault! I’m so sorry, darling, for how I acted toward you. I knew what I did was terrible and that I hurt you so badly, but I realized it was even worse than I thought when I saw it during my Review, blown-up on that giant screen. You looked so devastated and _I_ did that to you,” Louis cries, pointing his index finger at his own chest in emphasis. “Your love is the greatest gift in the universe and I pushed it away and all of the Justices saw, Harry. They all saw!” Louis makes a loud sobbing sound, his shame so overwhelming that it feels like it’s ripping out of his skin. Harry just stares at him at first, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open, his expression completely horrified.

“They screened what happened last night?” he asks, his voice breathless and shaking. Louis nods his head and rubs his hand over his eyes, trying to bat away his tears and hardly succeeding because they won’t stop falling.

“But... I thought they only screened clips of our lives on Earth?” Harry wonders, his eyes trailing away from Louis’ own, the break in eye contact causing Louis’ chest to tighten painfully.

“I thought the same thing, Harry. But then my Chief Justice explained that under certain circumstances the Justice Panels will allow a post-death clip to be screened, and one of those circumstances is if an Intake introduces a topic that has previously gone unmentioned. It was my fault, Harry! I brought up the topic of you yesterday afternoon and in doing so, I opened the door for Ileana to share that clip today.”

Harry doesn’t respond, he just sits there, his breathing heavy and his eyes wet.

“I’m so sorry,” Louis tries, but Harry is just staring blankly toward the sinks, completely shell-shocked. Louis suddenly realizes that he isn’t worthy of sitting on Harry’s lap in this way. He deserves no comfort. He’s razed their future and Harry is going to have to spend eternity without his soul mate and it will be all Louis’ fault, and the most unfair part of it all is that tomorrow morning Louis is going to be a crying baby somewhere and he won’t even know what he’s done. He’ll grow up never even knowing that a man so wonderful as Harry existed, much less that he knew and loved him. Louis will get off easy, but Harry will suffer forever.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers again, but it will never be enough. He lets go of Harry’s neck and starts to push himself off Harry’s lap, certain that Harry no longer wants any part of him, but Harry doesn’t let him go. Instead, Harry grips onto Louis tighter, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling in him close. He bends his knees and slides them toward his body, literally cocooning Louis within his grasp.

“That’s why you were shouting, wasn’t it Louis?” Harry asks, his voice quiet and thick with heartache, his sad eyes once again returning to meet Louis’ own. “You were fighting for us, weren’t you, sweetheart? You were trying to make them stop screening that clip.”

“I was. I promise, I was. I was fighting for us and I begged them to turn it off, Harry, I swear. But I didn’t have a choice. They made me sit back down and watch what I’d done to you and it was torture, Harry. It was absolute torture and I’m so, so sorry.”

“What happened between us last night was private,” Harry mutters.

“I know, darling. That’s what I told them. I begged them to stop the film, but instead they just paused it and… and your beautiful face – the way you looked – your expression… you looked like you had been utterly _betrayed_ , Harry, and I caused that look! I treated you so unfairly and then when they started the clip back up... God! The stupid shit that came out of my mouth… I was so arrogant, Harry. I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me – ”

“Louis, stop!” Harry interrupts, his loud voice echoing in the quiet of the bathroom, causing Louis to instantly freeze in his arms. “Stop,” he repeats, this time softer. He spreads his large hands and runs them soothingly slow up Louis’ back, while pressing kisses to Louis’ cheeks and forehead. Louis doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe even, because he doesn’t deserve to be treated so tenderly.

“Harry, I’m – ”

“Don’t you dare start apologizing again, Louis,” Harry chastises. He pulls back to look Louis in the eyes and there are tears streaming down his face and Louis is so mortified and heartbroken because he knows that _he_ caused them. But then Harry again speaks and when he does, Louis realizes that he doesn’t know anything at all.

“You told your panel about me, Louis, and you did that because you love me. I can’t tell you how happy and proud that makes me.” Louis furrows his brow, confused, but Harry continues on. “I’m so sorry that the fact that you shared our love was used against you in such a way. I-I can’t imagine how painful that must have been for you to watch that clip and my heart could break that you had to endure that, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve for that to happen and that clip never should have been shown. That was a private moment between you and me and it was nobody else’s business.”

“But, Harry!” Louis starts, but once again Harry cuts him off, this time by cupping Louis’ jaw in his big warm hands and kissing him softly on the lips.

“Are you going to let me finish what I have to say, Louis?” Harry asks and although there are still a few stray tears streaming down his cheeks, his tone is lighter, teasing almost, and he’s offering Louis the slightest smile. Louis nods his head numbly. “Good,” Harry says, taking a deep breath. “Because I don’t want you to berate yourself over what happened last night for even a minute longer, okay? I forgave you and _you forgave me_ for what happened, remember? We both made mistakes, Lou.”

Louis’ eyes go wide in surprise because how is it possible that Harry isn’t angry over what Louis has done? How is it possible that he’s even real? Louis looks down at Harry’s broad chest, feels the way that Harry is holding him so tightly in his arms, and Louis lets out a heavy sigh and allows himself to take the comfort Harry is offering. But he still has to ask the question, his voice small when he speaks.

“You’re not angry with me, Haz?”

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Harry answers without delay, and then he says quietly, “Louis, I _know_.”

Louis doesn’t move for a moment, confused as to what Harry is talking about, but then he sits up a little, so that he can properly look Harry in the eyes.

“You know what?” Louis asks.

Harry’s tears have stopped falling and his eyes are so clear. Louis thinks they are the most beautiful shade of green he has ever seen. His hair is starting to dry, but it’s still damp, his curls falling in springy ringlets and grazing his shoulders.

“I know why you acted the way you did last night, Louis,” Harry answers. “I know about your dinner with Donald, and I also know about Sam.”

“What?” Louis manages to eke out, completely taken aback. “How… I don’t… What?”

“I was going to tell you when we first got back here to the hotel, Louis. But then I remembered what you said about being in the moment and I didn’t want anything to spoil our afternoon. I knew we would talk about it when the time was right.”

“But how do you know?” Louis asks and then he clears his throat. “What exactly _do_ you know, Harry?”

“I imagine I know enough, because what I know reiterates exactly what you were telling me last night, Louis: that you were trying to protect me.”

“I don’t understand,” Louis replies, shaking his head. Harry slides his hand up Louis’ shoulder and gently wraps it behind his neck, his fingers scratching at the base of Louis’ scalp.

“Donald came to see Sam this morning, Louis. I guess he tried to meet with Marcus first, but Marcus wasn’t at his office and Sam’s office is right next door, plus they’re great friends, so he went to her instead.”

Louis’ squints his eyes in concentration, remembering the events of this morning.

“Marcus’ assistant, Rachel, came into my Review Room this morning,” Louis offers, fitting the pieces of the puzzle together. “She said that Sam needed to see Marcus, that she had a visitor earlier and that she and Marcus needed to talk.”

“That visitor was Donald, Louis.”

“ _My_ Donald?” Louis asks, dumbfounded, and Harry lets out a soft chuckle at Louis’ choice of words.

“Yes, _your_ Donald,” Harry teases. “Do you remember our first morning together, Lou?” he asks, his voice reflective. “You kept calling Donald, ‘ _My_ Donald’ and I was getting so jealous.”

Louis can’t help but smile at that, because that morning in the shower with Harry was everything and the fact that Harry is trying to make Louis laugh by reminding him of their playful banter that day means so much to him.

“But why did Donald need to see Sam?” Louis asks, his mind returning to the subject at hand. “And… you know about Sam, Harry?” Harry nods his head and then he pulls Louis into his body, giving him a tight hug before relaxing his hold enough so that they can again face one another.

“I know that Sam was your advocate the last time you were here and I know that Donald shared that with you during your dinner together. You must have been so upset, Louis. I can’t imagine what that was like for you,” Harry says, gently stroking Louis’ side. “But I don’t want to get ahead of myself. The reason Donald went to see Sam – and wanted to see Marcus in the first place – was because he was worried that what he said to you last night might affect your Review. He said when he sobered up this morning he realized he told you things that as an Intake you probably weren’t prepared to handle and he was afraid his words would have a negative impact on you.”

“He told me so many things, Harry,” Louis answers. He speaks quietly, trying to absorb what Harry is telling him, but just thinking about what Donald went through when his soul mate was sent away makes Louis’ heart ache both with sadness for Donald and worry for Harry. The fact that a century and a half has passed and Donald is still suffering so greatly only makes Louis feel worse.

“I know he did, sweetheart,” Harry replies. “The only reason Sam shared with me what he said to you is because she was worried about you. She knew you were coming over after our meeting last night and so this morning she asked me if when you did, had you maybe acted… _differently_ toward me.”

“I acted terribly toward you,” Louis mumbles, but Harry doesn’t allow him to wallow in his negative thoughts.

“You acted exactly like someone would if they were trying to protect another person from being hurt, Louis. I understand why you behaved like you did and I need you to stop punishing yourself, okay?”

Louis feels his cheeks burn because despite Harry’s reassurances; he’s still painfully ashamed of his behavior.

“Did you tell her what I did, Haz?” Louis asks, embarrassed.

“I just said that you were distant, Louis, and I didn’t expand upon it, because it’s nobody’s business but our own. But Sam is smart, and she knew that I was holding back, so she told me everything. She said that Donald had come to her, sick with worry about you because he told you about his soul mate, Jane, and how she was sent back to Earth. He told her he got piss drunk and he cried to you about Jane and that it was a terrible burden to put on your shoulders, and then he confessed that he also told you that you had known Sam in your previous life and that he knew how much that must have frightened you.”

“I pressed him to tell me though, Harry,” Louis offers, trying to protect his friend. He really hopes Donald doesn’t suffer any sort of negative repercussions for what he told Louis. God, that would only make Louis feel more terrible than he already does. “He told me Sam was surprised to see me and he would have left it at that if I hadn’t badgered the reason why out of him.”

“Sam told me the first time she saw you and I together she was so caught up in the fact that we were soul mates that she really didn’t get a proper look at you. But later, when we met her in the hall that first day before we went to the park for lunch, she said that she really _saw_ who you were and she was so surprised that she immediately went to Marcus to discuss it with him. He already knew, of course, but I guess he had just never gotten around to telling her. Apparently their firm is very busy and they’ve handled each other’s previous clients on more than one occasion.”

“Marcus knew?” Louis asks, his voice shocked. “Why didn’t he tell me?” he wonders, the question purely rhetorical.

“I asked Sam the same thing and she said it would have been a distraction to you. She told me Marcus is one of the best advocates in the universe and that he would never tell a client something that would cause them unnecessary worry or compromise their case.”

“He’s a good friend,” Louis comments.

“He is,” Harry agrees. “But the reason I shared all of this with you, Louis, is because I fully understand now what you were trying to tell me last night. You had to have been positively terrified after you talked with Donald.”

“He still loves Jane so much, Harry. He’s so brokenhearted, and I just… I just couldn’t bear the thought of you going through what Donald is still enduring should I get sent back. I… I was trying to do the right thing.”

“I know you were, sweetheart. It’s so horrible what Donald is suffering and I know that you were trying to protect me from that hurt.” Harry cradles Louis’ neck in his hand and then he gently nudges Louis’ jaw upwards with his thumb. “Louis,” he says quietly. “Why did you change your mind? I’m so glad that you did,” he quickly adds. “But you were so adamant last night. What happened to make you realize that it was the right thing… for us to make love?”

In his heart, Louis knows that Harry wants to hear that Louis has gained more confidence and that he is now certain that they’re moving forward together, but that’s not the reason he changed his mind and Louis could never lie to Harry. He hasn’t lied to Harry once since the moment they first met and he isn’t about to start now.

“You asked me last night if our roles were reversed and you might get sent back, wouldn’t I want to know what it was like to make love to you, Harry, and I didn’t answer your question because the answer was ‘yes’.” I was just afraid to say it out loud to you because I wanted you so badly and I didn’t think I would be able to control myself if you knew my true feelings. Then, before you fell asleep last night, you said it again; you said that you would want to know what it was like to make love to me, even if we were separated, and it was like my eyes were suddenly opened to the massive mistake I had made. I was so devastated over what I had done in rejecting you, Harry. I was so ashamed and…” Louis draws in a breath, trying to determine if he should share this next bit and then he decides that Harry deserves to hear it.

“I want you to know that I wasn’t trying to push you away this morning, Harry. I… well, I actually just wanted you on your back so that I could prep you, but then I said the wrong thing and that bloody phone rang and it all just sort of… fell apart. I was still so ashamed by how I had treated you last night and you seemed so upset with me, so I just kept quiet… I was so afraid we wouldn’t have another opportunity to be together and that you would suffer with some sort of ‘what if’ scenario for all eternity if you knew I had intended on making love to you and then was sent back to Earth without getting the chance.”

“Louis,” Harry breathes, shaking his head. “I was just frustrated this morning. I wanted you so badly and I should have let you speak instead of storming off to the en suite like a spoiled brat.”

“You didn’t act like a brat, Harry. You were right to be upset,” Louis replies. Quieter, he adds, “You were so beautiful standing beneath that shower, Harry… watching you touch yourself… My god, I didn’t deserve that pleasure.”

“You deserve everything,” Harry answers.

“Well, I didn’t think we’d have another chance to be together, and when I learned that we did, I knew I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. I thought I was going to bust out of my chair when the Chief Justice said we’d have the afternoon free. I’m so grateful I’ve had this time with you.”

“Loooouis,” Harry coos. “You’re so wonderful and I’m so glad we had this time together, too. The way it felt to be connected to you in that way… It was the most perfect and wonderful thing I’ve ever experienced and I’ll never regret a moment of it, not in a million years.”

Louis nods and offers Harry a small smile because he knows that denying him the experience of making love to his soul mate would have been a cruel betrayal. Harry deserved to experience that sacred union and despite Louis’ worries the previous evening, he’ll never regret making love to Harry, either.

The two share a lingering kiss, Louis’ fingertips gently gliding up Harry’s biceps and then settling on his shoulders and then Harry again speaks, his voice cautious and gentle.

“So, um… After Ileana showed her clip, what happened next?”

Louis lets out a heavy sigh because his morning session was just awful and he hates reliving it, but yet, he does find it comforting to share what happened with Harry. Harry is just listening patiently, without judgment or anger and Louis feels so incredibly lucky to have him.

“Ileana is so hard to understand, Harry. She’s so bloody brilliant with the way she’s presenting her case. And she’s… she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever known and she shows me these signs of compassion that are so confusing because it’s like she’s simultaneously trying to reduce me to a giant lump of fear, but at the same time, I have a sense that she feels badly about having to do so. She actually seemed very uncomfortable with screening the clip of you and I, but she did it anyway, so I suppose in the end, she felt she was doing the right thing.”

“I’m sorry she’s been giving you such a hard time, Louis. I don’t understand it at all.” Harry replies. “You’re perfect and you’re brave and you deserve to move forward.”

Louis smiles weakly at Harry’s compliment because he’s not feeling very perfect or brave, but he continues talking anyway.

“This morning, Ileana argued that my greatest fear on Earth was a fear of love. She said that I was driven by that fear throughout the course of my lifetime and that I carried that fear with me into death. The clip of you and I last night in this hotel room… Well, Harry, it sort of… proved her point.”

“But you’re not afraid of love, Louis,” Harry answers calmly. “We’ve loved each other from the minute we met and you’ve never been afraid to show me that you love me. Even when you said you couldn’t make love to me, you were doing so because you loved me, Louis. I know that.”

Louis bites his lip, ducking his head shyly.

“Well, that was Marcus’ exact counterargument, Harry,” he says and he can’t help but smile remembering Marcus’ embarrassing cross because even though the questions he was asking were mortifying, he did quite a good job of proving his point.

“What was Marcus’ counterargument?” Harry asks, and he’s smiling too now, and Louis knows it’s because Harry can read Louis so well that he knows he has something positively ridiculous to share.

“He… Um… Well, basically he asked me all of these questions about you and I and what we… _do_ together… _sexually_.”

Harry barks a loud laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” he asks, shaking his head.

“I’m serious,” Louis chuckles. “I was positively mortified. He asked me if we’ve kissed and how often, and then he made a smart comment about us snogging outside of the doors to our Review Rooms. He asked me if we’d seen each other naked and then… Oh god, it’s so embarrassing,” Louis says and he momentarily hides his face behind his palms.

“Oh, you’ve got to tell me what happened next, Louis,” Harry laughs. “I demand to know.”

Louis rolls his eyes and then just says it and he makes air quotes when emphasizing Marcus’ words, “Marcus asked me if you and I ‘have ever engaged in sexual activity that resulted in climax for one or both of us’.” Harry’s eyes go wide and his mouth drops open. “And when I answered ‘yes’, he asked me how many times.”

Once again, Harry breaks into laughter and Louis immediately joins in. It feels good to be laughing at something so serious as Louis’ final Review session and it’s a relief. Harry can always bring out the joy in Louis, regardless of the circumstances and Louis is so grateful for that, especially right now when he needs to smile and laugh more than anything.

“Well, it’s too bad you didn’t get to include today’s numbers in your tally, Lou. I think we broke the record on ‘sexual activity that resulted in climax’ and he makes air quotes just like Louis did and they bust out laughing yet again.

“It was actually really brilliant though, Haz,” Louis offers, once they’ve settled down. “Humiliating, but brilliant. He basically was proving to the Panel that I wasn’t afraid of love because I willingly show my love to you… all the time, in fact.”

“You do,” Harry grins.

“Every time Marcus asked me a question about our sex life I started the answer by stating that we loved each other and after my session, Marcus told me that it was a smart thing to do, because it just reiterated that I _have_ love and I’m not afraid to share it or receive it. But, I… well, I didn’t say it for that reason.”

“You didn’t?” Harry asks.

“No, Haz. I said it because it was true and I was so proud of you, I just wanted everyone to know how much I love you and that you’re mine.”

“Forever,” Harry whispers and he presses a warm kiss to Louis’ lips. Louis feels his stomach sharply clench because the worry that he’ll be sent back to Earth hasn’t gone away and he’s so very scared he won’t have a forever with Harry. But still, he’s going to treasure every moment he has with him and he’s going to hang on to his thread of hope until the very end.

“Forever,” he repeats and the look of relief on Harry’s face fills Louis’ heart with warmth.

Just then, there is a ringing sound from the back wall of the tub and Louis hadn’t even noticed Harry’s watch sitting on the ledge. Harry reaches around and grabs it, silencing the alarm.

“We have to get out now, Louis,” he says, his voice sad. “We need to leave for the Center in half an hour.”

“Okay, darling,” Louis answers and his stomach clenches again, this time more sharply than the last. Why is this going by so fast? Why is their moment almost over?

Harry pushes the silver stopper mounted to the rear floor of the tub, and the water level quickly starts dropping as the water is siphoned down the drain. Both men reluctantly stand, wanting to stay in longer despite the fact that their fingers and toes are shriveled and pruney and they’ve been soaking for ages. Louis steps out first, his wet feet landing on the plush bathmat and then Harry follows suit, standing beside Louis but reaching in front of him to grab one of the plush bath towels that are stacked on the far end of the tub. Louis grasps Harry’s wrist to stop him.

“No, Harry,” he says quietly and Harry’s face positively falls.

Every shower they’ve shared since they first met has ended with Harry gently toweling Louis’ body dry before Harry so much as thinks about taking care of himself. It’s been one of the most loving, selfless acts Louis has ever experienced and it has meant so much to him, more than he could ever articulate, actually. But Louis isn’t going to let Harry take care of him today. Instead, Louis lifts a towel from the stack and then turns to Harry, looking him in the eyes. They stare at each other for a moment and Louis brushes one of Harry’s damp curls behind his ear, and then he drops to his knees in front of Harry’s feet. He doesn’t miss Harry’s sharp intake of breath.

Louis cups his hand behind Harry’s calf, gently stroking the soft skin. “I love you, darling,” he whispers, and then he sets to work.

He pats the towel on the tops of Harry’s feet first, smiling as he runs his fingertip over the tattoo inked on the skin of Harry’s big toe.

 _My beautiful, silly boy_ , he thinks to himself and then he gathers the towel in both hands and begins carefully and with great purpose, running it up and down Harry’s calves, before gently drying his knees. Harry just stands there, he doesn’t move while Louis works, but his chest is rising and falling heavily and Louis can hear the occasional sniffle, but he tries not to allow the sadness to creep in. He wants the moment to last just a little bit longer. He wants to take care of Harry in this small way for what very well may be the first and last time.

When Louis has dried Harry’s legs and pressed the towel carefully to his crotch and arse, which Louis knows must be tender from their lovemaking, he stretches upright on his knees and leans forward, resting his cheek on the top of Harry’s thigh and breathing in the smell of his sweet, clean skin. Harry smells of vanilla and honeysuckle laced with his own, natural scent and Louis is so frightened that this is the last time he’ll get to press up against Harry’s damp body, that this will be the last time the two will enjoy the intimacy of being nude together.

 _How has this gone by so fast?_ Louis wonders, and then he transitions from his knees to the standing position. He runs the towel over Harry’s shoulders, down his arms and across his chest and belly. He pauses and leans in and kisses the center of the butterfly tattoo. The insect has become Louis’ favorite ink on Harry’s body and Louis closes his eyes when he feels Harry drag his fingertip along Louis’ collar tattoo in response.

He can’t look Harry in the eyes.

Louis knows that if his eyes meet Harry’s he won’t be able to control the tears he feels welling in his own. He’s certain if he looks into those beautiful green fields he won’t be able to finish this one simple act because it will hurt too much. Louis wants to believe he’s moving forward with Harry, he wants to so desperately. But time is running out, and the closer he gets to finding out his fate, the more frightened he is that the universe won’t be on his side.

“Turn around for me, darling,” Louis whispers and Harry does as he’s told. Louis dries the broad back that he loves so much, drags the towel down Harry’s spine and presses kisses to Harry’s shoulders before gently lifting Harry’s hair and patting the towel against Harry’s neck.

Louis draws in a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth to steady himself, Justice Wen’s breathing technique carrying him through right to the end of his stay in Judgment City.

“I think we’re all finished now, love,” he says and he tosses the towel over the side of the tub. Harry immediately turns and faces Louis, gripping Louis shoulders in his big hands. His eyes are wet, one or two tears having made their way down his cheeks and he draws in a shuddering breath before gasping loudly and then pulling Louis into his body in a fierce embrace.

“Louis,” he cries, his voice thick and cracking. “I know you’re so frightened, sweetheart. What happened in your Review this morning was so terrible, but I still believe in us, okay?”

Louis nods his head, but he doesn’t’ respond. He just needs to be held by Harry without speaking, because if he does speak, he may cry and he doesn’t want to do that. Harry still believes in him and Louis doesn’t want to say a thing to diminish that belief. He needs it too much.

“I’ve never doubted we’re moving forward together for a minute, and I don’t doubt it now, even after everything you’ve told me, Lou,” Harry says, and as he speaks, his voice becomes clearer, stronger, his tone more confident and it gives Louis hope. “I can see us on that train together, Louis. I can see it so clearly in my mind and I know it will happen. I just know we’re moving forward together, sweetheart.”

Louis pulls back and finally manages to really look at Harry and he’s quite proud of himself that he’s able to do so without completely breaking down. He doesn’t cry at all in fact, he just allows himself to absorb a bit of Harry’s confidence and he says the words he knows Harry is desperate to hear because maybe if he keeps saying them and believing in them, they will come true.

“We’re moving forward together,” Louis says and Harry’s responding smile is so genuine and happy that Louis can’t help but give him one of his own in return.

“We are, we are, we are,” Harry repeats, peppering Louis’ cheeks in kisses.

Louis feels utterly adored and he lets Harry’s love and positivity seep into his own skin. They still have a bit of time before their verdicts are to be read. Louis is not going to spend it being miserable.

“We should get ready, yeah?” Louis asks and Harry nods his head, but before he lets Louis go, Harry cradles his jaw in his hand. He strokes his thumb over Louis’ cheekbone and then he presses their mouths together and the kiss is so sweet and so tender that it just reverberates warmth and love throughout Louis’ body. Louis doesn’t understand how every kiss with Harry can be just a little bit different, just a little bit better even, than the one that came before, but somehow, they are.

The two stand side by side in front of the vanity, brushing their teeth and then fixing their hair, Harry finalizing his own hairstyle with his “fluff, swoop, and tug” routine that Louis adores. As Louis is running some product through his own fringe and blow-drying it to the side, Harry stands beside him and kisses the back of his neck, his lips so gentle that they tickle Louis’ skin, causing him to scrunch his shoulders.

“You’ve got a massive lovebite on your neck, Lou,” Harry says, speaking to Louis’ reflection in the mirror.

“Good,” Louis replies and then he repeats the words that Harry has said to him before. “I like having your mark on me, Haz.”

Harry smiles and shakes his head. “I’ll never understand how I’m the one in this relationship who ended being branded, ‘dirty boy’,” he jokes.

“Oh trust me, Harry. You’ve earned that one by a mile,” Louis answers and Harry swats his bum playfully in response.

The two finish up in the en suite and head into the bedroom where they get dressed and then don their wristwatches and shoes.

It’s almost time to go.

They’re about to leave the bedroom to make their way into the main living space when Harry walks over to the nightstand and picks up the bouquet of flowers that Louis brought him.

“I wish I could take these with me,” he says, turning the bouquet in his hands.

Just then, Louis remembers the item he saw earlier in Harry’s nightstand drawer and he feels a rush of relief that they didn’t leave the hotel suite before Louis remembered it and the one last thing he wants to do for Harry.

“Harry, can you give me a minute, love,” he says. “I’ll meet you by the front door.”

“Of course,” Harry answers without question. He takes a whiff of his bouquet and starts to set it back down on the tabletop when Louis holds up his hand to stop him.

“Take the bouquet with you, sweetheart,” he says and Harry smiles, happy to have the blooms for a bit longer. He kisses Louis on the cheek and then turns and leaves the bedroom and as soon as he’s gone, Louis flips on the lamp that rests on the nightstand and immediately pulls open the drawer and begins rummaging inside. It takes less than a minute of shuffling through the various items before Louis locates the one thing he was looking for.

It’s square and white and it’s rather innocuous, really. In fact, Louis thinks that it was probably fate that he saw it in the first place because it’s so small: less than three inches in length and width and only a quarter inch or so in depth.

It’s just a pad of sticky notes: each sheet of paper adhered to the one below it via a thin adhesive strip. On the surface of each note is a pale watermark image of The Ambassador hotel, and in the lower left corner the hotel name is imprinted in Art Deco script. The watermark and text are cast in the same shade of sea blue that adorns many of accessories and accents throughout the grand hotel, but the ink is light enough so as not to obstruct any text that may be handwritten upon it.

Louis looks back into the drawer and rifles through the items again for another moment until he locates a pack of colored pens, removing the red pen without a second thought.

He takes a breath. He doesn’t have a lot of time to get emotional or sentimental, even though he feels that familiar, painful clench in his gut. He quickly jots down the words he knows so well and that mean so much to both him and Harry, but he’s careful to write neatly; his pretty, sharp script imprinted in the red ink and standing out in bold contrast to the crisp white paper.

He contemplates adding something extra because there is just so much he wants to say to Harry, but in the end, he realizes that these words alone are enough and so he carefully pulls the note from the sticky pad and folds it in half, and then in half again so that the words are hidden inside the neatly folded square. He places the notepad and pen on the nightstand and shuts the drawer, cupping the note in the palm of his hand as he walks out of the bedroom to meet Harry.

Harry is standing by the front door to the suite waiting for Louis and as Louis approaches he smiles broadly at him.

“I miss you when you go away,” Harry says, pulling Louis into his arms, and Louis has to work hard not to read a deeper meaning in Harry’s words because he’s determined to hold on to his thread of hope, even for just a little bit longer.

“You’re insatiable,” Louis replies, his voice playful.

“You are correct,” Harry agrees lightly.

“Harry,” Louis says, changing the subject. “Um. You’re wearing your wristwatch on your left arm, yeah?”

“I am,” Harry answers.

“Would you mind switching it to your right wrist for me?” Louis asks. Harry opens his mouth as if he is going to say something, but then he simply does as he is told, removing the watch from his left wrist and then transferring it to his right.

“It would be nice if these tupas had pockets,” Louis comments. “So we could carry things with us, if we liked,” he adds. Harry looks at him curiously and it’s clear that he has no idea why such an idea popped into Louis’ head, but he responds thoughtfully anyway.

“I suppose the powers that be don’t want us to get caught up in material things, yeah? I mean, on Earth I would have gone positively mental if I didn’t have my cell phone and wallet on me at all times, but here… well, I guess we really don’t need anything like that and it’s kind of freeing.”

“You’re definitely right about that,” Louis answers. “But still, pockets would be convenient.”

Harry has set his bouquet of flowers on the table in the entranceway and Louis picks them up, the sticky note still pressed carefully in his palm and with his free hand he releases the beautiful bow that Marta tied so expertly, letting loose the ribbon that binds the flowers together. He next holds the ribbon between his thumb and index finger, pressing the sticky note to his palm with the remaining three digits so as to not drop it. Harry doesn’t say anything, he just watches Louis carefully, but does not interrupt him.

“Will you push your left sleeve up for me, darling?” Louis asks. “And hold out your arm, okay?”

Harry nods and does as he’s told, pushing his sleeve up to just below his elbow, the wide elastic wristband securing it in place. He holds his arm out toward Louis, and Louis draws in a breath when he sees the anchor tattoo, even though he’s seen it so many times before.

“The anchor and the rope,” Louis says, his voice reverent as he traces the index finger of his free hand over the tattoo.

“The dagger and the rose,” Harry replies quietly.

“The ship and the compass,” Louis answers and then he leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of the anchor that is inked into Harry’s skin.

“The heart and the arrow,” Harry says, a smile in his voice and Louis grins, because really, their union is too perfect.

“We have so many. We could do this all day, Harry.”

“We could,” Harry agrees. “You’re my destiny, Louis. It’s written on our skin.”

“It is, darling,” Louis says and he feels a current of sadness course through him, but he ignores it and instead, places the little folded square of paper directly atop Harry’s anchor tattoo. Harry’s eyes momentarily go wide, but he doesn’t say a word and Louis thinks that Harry’s patience is very admirable, but he also knows that Harry has all the time in the world when it comes to matters of Louis.

 _I love him so much_.

Louis takes the silk ribbon in both hands and then stretches it taut, placing the center portion directly over the folded sticky note that rests atop Harry’s forearm. The ribbon is wide and flat and it encompasses the note completely, but Louis wraps it around Harry’s wrist nonetheless, passing it back and forth over the surface of the anchor in a crisscross pattern in the exact same way that Marta wrapped the ribbon around the flowers earlier. Harry’s wrist is significantly wider than the bundled flower stems and so the ribbon covers a smaller surface and after a few passes, Louis has reached the end. He ties the end pieces together into a tight knot, hardly the fancy bow Marta created, but Louis wants the ribbon to be secure. He doesn’t want the little slip of paper to fall out or work itself free, and he’s sure that the ribbon is tight enough so that that won’t happen, but not so tight as to be uncomfortable for Harry.

He runs his fingers over the ribbon lovingly.

It looks like Harry is wearing a very wide wristband, the ribbon resting flush against his skin and holding the note firmly in place. Louis leans forward and as he did with the anchor tattoo, he kisses the surface of the ribbon and then he gently pats Harry’s wrist. He raises his eyes to meet Harry’s and isn’t surprised to see that Harry’s are wet, the significance of Louis’ gesture not at all lost on him.

“Pockets would be convenient,” Louis softly reiterates.

“What did you put on my wrist, Louis?” Harry asks, just the slightest hint of trepidation in his voice. Louis smiles and carefully pulls Harry’s sleeve back down, stretching the banding so that it doesn’t drag over the ribbon and then releasing it once it’s positioned properly over Harry’s wrist.

“Something for you to keep,” Louis quietly answers and Harry immediately takes both of Louis’ hands in his own, squeezing them tight.

“You’ll show me tonight on the train, Louis,” Harry states emphatically.

“I’d love that, darling,” Louis replies.

“You’ll show me tonight on the train,” Harry repeats.

Louis nods his head and smiles, because he wants that so much.

“We should probably head downstairs to catch the tram,” Louis says, changing the subject and Harry agrees, taking Louis by the hand and leading him to the door. As they exit the luxurious penthouse suite overlooking Judgment City, Louis notices that Harry doesn’t even pause to look back. Louis realizes in that moment that Harry doesn’t feel sentimental about leaving his grand hotel suite because to him: _Louis_ is home.

But still, it’s time to return to the Review Center, and Louis can’t help but feel both sentimental and melancholy.

 _The moment is over_.

The two take the lift that will transport them to the lobby and Louis comments that it’s the first time he and Harry have actually ridden in a lift at The Ambassador together.

“I suppose there is no ‘Ed’ watching that we can scandalize with our tawdry lift behavior,” Harry jokes. “God, I was so embarrassed when I first met him in person at your footie match. To think he saw me grinding up on you in that lift. I was positively mortified.”

“See, I told you so, Harold,” Louis comments, squeezing Harry’s hip.

“Told me what?” Harry questions.

“That you’re the ‘dirty boy’ in this relationship,” Louis teases.

“I’ll show you dirty,” Harry laughs and he’s just pulled Louis into his arms and is starting to suck a kiss into Louis’ neck, Louis giggling and batting him away in false protest, when the lift doors open. “We’ll pick that up again, later,” Harry says as he leads Louis into the hotel lobby.

Louis hopes more than anything that Harry’s words turn out to be true.

They’re walking across the lobby toward the exit when Louis hears a familiar voice calling out to them.

“Harry! Louis! I’m so glad I’ve run into you before you left.” Harry breaks into a huge grin, pulling Marta, the person behind the voice, into a friendly hug.

“I’m so glad we ran into you, too!” he exclaims. “I got to say my goodbyes to Serena earlier, but I would have been so sad if I didn’t get to say goodbye to you too, Marta.”

“Well, this doesn’t have to be ‘goodbye’ anyway,” Marta assures. “I feel confident that after you move forward you’ll come back and visit me. I would wish you luck on your verdicts, but I don’t think you’ll need it. I have faith in you,” she says and then she looks pointedly at Louis. “I have faith in _both_ of you.”

Louis and Harry chat with Marta for another minute or so and when it’s time for them to go outside and catch the tram, Harry hugs her goodbye, thanking her for all of her help as his concierge, even though he was probably one of her easiest charges considering that he spent the vast majority of his free time at Louis’.

When it’s Louis turn to hug Marta he leans in and whispers in her ear, “You’ll take care of him for me,” and when he pulls back she smiles sadly and nods. But instead of releasing Louis, she reels him in again and whispers words of her own.

“Take a chance, Louis,” she says, her voice low so Harry can’t hear. “You won’t be sorry if you do.”

Louis just stares at Marta blankly as he pulls away, completely at a loss as to what she could possibly mean, but Marta just smiles at him sweetly, patting him on the hand and giving him a look like she knows that _he_ knows exactly what she’s talking about.

Marta walks Louis and Harry to the hotel entrance and gives them another quick hug goodbye and then the two men climb on the blue tram that will take them back to the Review Center.

The tram is nearly full and Louis realizes that everyone on board must have arrived in the Afterlife around the same time as he and Harry, and now they’re all headed to hear their fates, together. It feels like they are all on a sacred journey and the mood in the tram is quiet and reflective.

“It seems strange traveling to the Center without Peter and Margaret, or Rowan, Lou,” Harry comments, his voice soft so as not to disturb the other passengers.

“It does,” Louis agrees. “I’m just thankful that I’m here with you, Harry.”

Harry lifts the armrest that separates his and Louis’ seats and he pulls Louis close to his body, wrapping his arm around him. Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder and he keeps it there for the rest of the trip.

When they arrive at the Review Center, Louis is surprised by how different the building seems so late in the day. The huge atrium area is quiet, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle and loud chatter of Intakes, Advocates, and Delegates rushing about. It’s definitely active, there are still the same types of people everywhere, but the Reviews are over for the day and the Intakes who are arriving at the Center at this hour are doing so for the soul purpose of learning their fates. It’s like everyone in the Center understands this and are hushed and respectful. The thought makes Louis’ stomach painfully constrict, not for the first time this afternoon.

The two walk to the bank of lifts that accommodates the Eastern wing and when the designated car arrives and they step inside, they wave to the camera like they always do, Harry offering a friendly, “Hello, Ed! We were talking about you earlier. I hope your ears weren’t burning,” in greeting.

Louis nudges him with his elbow, shaking his head and laughing.

“You’ll have to excuse my Harry, Ed,” Louis says. “He’s utterly juvenile.”

“Am not!” Harry protests with a pout.

“Are so!” Louis laughs and just like that, the two start teasing each other, quickly getting lost in their own little bubble, everything and everyone disappearing around them as the lift slowly climbs to the forty-sixth floor.

Louis and Harry are the last passengers on the lift when it slows to a stop and the lift bell chimes, the doors opening wide. They don’t even notice because Harry is hugging Louis tightly, whispering in his ear how much he loves him and telling him about all of the filthy things he intends on doing to him once they arrive in the next realm.

“Well, I’m happy you blokes haven’t changed your pattern at all.” Ed’s familiar voice rings out through the car’s intercom system, his tone light and teasing. “Do you snog anywhere else besides my lifts, gentlemen?”

Louis pulls away from Harry with a laugh, Harry blushing at his side.

“I swear I’m not a pervert, Ed,” Harry says, shaking his head and looking at the camera.

“He’s lying, Ed,” Louis says with a grin. “He’s a terrific pervert!”

“Well, seems like you’ve both earned your stripes,” Ed says nonchalantly and Louis and Harry shrug in agreement. “Listen, I just want to tell you both good luck on your verdicts,” the disembodied voice of Ed continues. “It’s been my privilege to get to know you lads, even though I’ve seen a bit more of your private life than I might prefer.” Harry cradles his hands over his face, completely embarrassed, but Ed’s laughter rings through the lift car. “I’m just having one on you, mate. You both are lovely.”

“Thank you, Ed,” Louis offers. “Maybe if things turn out all right, we’ll play footie together again, someday.”

“I’m sure we will,” Ed replies. His voice is casual when he says, “Louis, I don’t want you to forget what I told you when we last played together, mate.”

Louis’ head snaps up to the camera and he stares at it for a moment, remembering Ed’s words out on the pitch at Shepherdshire and the offer he made to Louis, should the need ever arise.

“You’re a good person and a great footballer,” Ed adds, his voice light.

Louis just continues to stare at the camera, but then he nods his head slightly, acknowledging the connotation behind Ed’s words.

“You’ll play football with Louis again,” Harry states confidently, and then he squeezes Louis’ waist as if to confirm as much.

Louis and Harry offer a final goodbye to Ed, waving one last time to the camera and then stepping off the lift. They walk across the corridor to stand in their special spot between their two Review Rooms and it’s then that Louis feels his nerves really start to kick in. He reaches out and begins fingering at Harry’s tupa belt.

“How much time do we have, Haz?” he asks, trying to make his tone sound light, but instead sounding squeaky and unsure. Harry looks at his wristwatch, at first raising his left wrist and then remembering that the watch is now on his right.

“It’s a quarter of six, Lou. We’re going to need to go inside soon.”

“This day went by so fast,” Louis comments, his voice sad. He wishes he could turn back time and relive their afternoon all over again. It was so wonderful, the love they shared, and Louis can’t bear the thought of this being the end. He lifts his eyes to meet Harry’s gaze. “Today meant everything to me, Harry.”

Harry wraps his arm behind Louis’ waist, pulling him close and nuzzling their noses together sweetly. “Today was perfect, Louis. It was the best day I’ve ever had in my entire life _and_ my entire death and I wouldn’t change a thing.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Louis’ lips and Louis raises his hands, wrapping one around the back of Harry’s neck and winding the index finger of the other in one of Harry’s curls.

“Love you so much, darling,” he breathes against Harry’s lips.

“Love you, Lou. And if I haven’t mentioned it before, we’re moving forward together.” Harry’s lips turn up into a small smile as he once again presses them against Louis’.

“We’re moving forward together,” Louis repeats and it never fails to make his heart flush with warmth the way that hearing those words coming from Louis’ mouth prompts Harry to break out into a huge grin.

“We are, sweetheart,” Harry answers, his smile wide and his dimple popping on his cheek. Louis is just leaning in to kiss him again. He wants to kiss Harry deeply and passionately and he wants to keep kissing him forever, but his attention is suddenly diverted when he hears the click clack of heels crossing the corridor and heading in their direction. He looks toward the sound and is shocked to see Ileana approaching.

Louis has had six Review sessions since his arrival in the Afterlife and he has _never_ seen Ileana outside of his Review Room, not even once. He’s always been comfortably seated beside Marcus before Ileana has even arrived for his sessions and to see her anywhere but the familiar setting of that pristine, judicial space is jarring to Louis and he feels a sour pang in his gut that his sacred space with Harry is being invaded by her presence.

Ileana doesn’t even notice Louis and Harry at first. She has her head buried in a sheaf of papers and she’s scanning it furiously as she walks down the corridor, her steps precise and even, despite the fact that she’s in no way paying attention to where she is going.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” Harry whispers. Louis turns to him and Harry is watching Ileana carefully, his brow furrowed like he’s assessing a threat.

“It is,” Louis replies.

Just then, Ileana looks up and she startles in her steps when she sees Louis standing before her. She’s only stood about a meter away and the look of surprise on her face is not something Louis would have expected, but her expression quickly changes and she offers Louis a cautious smile.

“Good evening, Louis,” she says.

“Good evening, Ileana,” he replies, his voice sure. He’s not going to let Ileana get under his skin at this point in the game. She’s already presented her case and she’s said the words that she hopes will send Louis back to Earth. She can do nothing more to hurt him. “I’d like for you to meet, Harry,” he says. Harry squeezes Louis’ hip, pulling him in closer, protectively even, and it gives Louis a bolster of confidence. He’s positively unable to bite his tongue when he adds, “You’ll probably recognize him from this morning’s PD5 clip,” just the slightest hint of sarcasm peppering his tone.

Ileana’s eyes widen and her lips part just the slightest bit, but then she once again schools her expression, smiling kindly and lifting her arm to extend her hand to Harry.

But then she freezes.

Ileana looks at Harry carefully and then back to Louis, her mouth pinched in concentration. She returns her stare to Harry and then she darts her eyes to Louis and then back and forth between the two, the assessment taking only a few seconds before her smile falters and her cheeks flush bright red. She lowers her eyes to the floor and lets out a heavy breath.

 _She sees_ , Louis thinks. _She knows_.

Louis is certain that Ileana Bachchan has now recognized that Louis and Harry are soul mates. By the remorseful look in her eyes when she quickly raises them to once again meet theirs, he’s also positive that Ileana is suffering regret, and if not regret, she’s definitely embarrassed by the way she dismissed their love earlier.

 _Good_.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Harry,” Ileana offers, her movements guarded when she once again extends her hand to him. Harry doesn’t loosen his grip on Louis, he’s still holding him protectively close, but he does extend his free hand to Ileana and shakes hers politely. “Louis has said wonderful things about you,” Ileana adds, her attempt at small talk painful given the circumstances under which Louis said those things.

“He’s the best person I’ll ever know,” Harry answers and then he kisses Louis’ temple.

“Louis is indeed a very good man,” Ileana agrees, her voice sincere.

Louis can feel the immediate change in Harry’s affect at Ileana’s words, and he’s proven right when Harry relaxes his hold on him, just a touch. Louis knows it’s because Ileana praised him. Harry is fiercely protective of Louis; there is no doubt about that. But it’s also obvious he enjoys when others have kind things to say about him and his opinion of Ileana may have softened, just the tiniest bit, when she agreed that Louis is in the very least, a decent person.

“Louis was right about you,” Harry says, his tone even.

“Oh… What did Louis say about me?” Ileana wonders and she sounds nervous and Louis knows she’s expecting something awful, especially given the nature of her and Louis’ relationship.

“He said that you’re very beautiful,” Harry answers and then he offers Ileana a small, but genuine smile.

“I-I… Well, thank you, Harry,” Ileana replies, obviously surprised. “That’s very kind of you to say.” She turns and looks at Louis, “That’s kind of you both.”

Louis smiles at Ileana then and his smile is just as authentic as Harry’s, but for a different reason. He’s enjoying seeing Ileana off her game; even though he knows the minute he steps back into his Review Room the Dragon Lady will be back in full force.

“I’ll just…” Ileana starts, but she doesn’t finish her sentence, she just tilts her head in the direction of Room 4604 and walks quickly inside.

“We need to go now, too,” Louis says and suddenly his nerves have returned with a vengeance and he feels hot all over, his stomach twisting in knots at the thought of having to face his verdict.

“It’s going to be all right,” Harry assures. “I promise you, Louis. Tonight, you and I will be on that train together. You are my soul mate and I am yours. This bond shall not be broken.” Louis feels his heart ache in his chest at Harry’s words.

“That’s very beautiful, darling,” he says, and he brushes the backs of his fingers over Harry’s cheek. Harry captures Louis’ hand in his own and kisses Louis’ knuckles and then his palm. “This bond shall not be broken,” Louis whispers.

“We’re moving forward together,” Harry says, his voice loud and strong. Louis closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath.

 _We’re moving forward together_ , he silently prays.

He opens his eyes and looks at Harry.

“We’re moving forward together,” Louis repeats and he and Harry smile at each other and then Louis leans up and kisses Harry gently on the lips.

“We’ll meet right here after our verdicts are read,” Harry says when they break the kiss.

“Of course, love,” Louis answers. “I’ll see you in a bit, darling.”

The two reluctantly part ways, both waiting until the very last moment possible to turn and enter their individual rooms.

“I believe in you, Louis,” Harry calls out, just as he’s about to enter his own room and Louis grins because his thread of hope feels a bit stronger; it’s definitely not a rope, but at least now it’s a string, and it’s all due to Harry’s never-ending faith. Harry is the ultimate confidence booster, really.

“I believe in _us_ ,” Louis answers back and the responding smile on Harry’s face is so beautiful that Louis’ wants to get lost in it until the end of time. Harry places his hand on his heart and Louis does the same and then finally, each enters their own Review Rooms, both men closing the doors behind them.

Once inside his room, Louis is surprised to see that Marcus is not present. Ileana sits at the delegate’s table, diligently reading through the same papers she was looking at when she ran into Louis and Harry in the corridor and as he takes his regular seat at the advocate’s table, she looks up briefly and they smile awkwardly at one another before she returns to her work.

 _Where is Marcus?_ Louis thinks, and he can’t help how uncomfortable he feels, sitting here in the Review Room without him. The truth is, Louis has come to depend on his pre-session banter with Marcus almost as much as he has the little ritual of standing outside the Review Room doors with Harry. Harry builds Louis’ confidence and Marcus; well, Marcus sets Louis in a good mood.

Louis looks at his wristwatch, the Justices are due back in five minutes. Just then, the door to the Review Room swings open and Marcus strides inside, Ileana barely looking up from her notes to give him a cursory nod. Marcus immediately takes his seat next to Louis, dropping his briefcase heavily on the advocate’s table.

“Did you miss me?” Marcus asks with a grin and Louis rolls his eyes in faux annoyance because _yes_ , he bloody well missed Marcus. He missed him very much, in fact.

“I was fine here all by myself, Marcus. Wouldn’t want to bother you with my verdict or anything silly like that,” Louis answers, looking about the room without meeting Marcus’ eyes. He drums his fingers on the tabletop as if he’s completely indifferent to Marcus’ presence.

Marcus huffs a laugh and then slaps Louis gently on the back.

“You look loved up, Louis,” he teases and Louis turns to him, his eyes wide in surprise, although how he’s surprised by anything that Marcus says at this point is beyond Louis.

“And how exactly do I look, ‘loved up’?” Louis asks, making air quotes and this, this is why he hated being in the Review Room for even a minute without having Marcus by his side. Marcus helps Louis forget his worries, he eggs him on about Harry, and he makes Louis laugh.

“Well, I’d argue that the first indicator is that giant lovebite on the back of your neck. It was all I could see when I walked into this room. It looks like you got your neck stuck in a vice.” Louis rubs his hand over the spot where Harry marked him, shaking his head and trying to bite back a grin. “Tell me, Louis, is your Harry a vampire? Because if what I’ve seen this week is any indication, the answer to that question is a resounding ‘yes’.”

Louis does grin then, no longer able to hold back his smile.

“Yeah, I think he just might be,” Louis laughs. “He told me he once slayed a whole den of vampires living in Holmes Chapel, but I’m pretty sure one of them converted him.”

Marcus throws his head back and laughs loudly, the noise causing Ileana to look up from her papers in annoyance. Marcus pays her no mind.

“Your boy,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“My boy,” Louis repeats, his voice fond.

Marcus’ voice drops and he’s quiet and thoughtful when he asks, “Were you in the _moment_ , Louis?”

Louis bites his lip and nods his head, the implication behind the question evident.

“I was in the moment, Marcus. It was wonderful.”

“Good man,” Marcus replies, squeezing Louis’ shoulder. “There’s nothing better than the love of a soul mate. I’m so happy you experienced that, Louis.”

“So am I,” Louis answers. “My afternoon with Harry was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It was… Well… it was the most pure and perfect experience I’ve ever known. I almost can’t believe it was real.”

Louis can feel his cheeks flush at sharing something so deeply personal with Marcus, but he doesn’t mind. Marcus is his friend and Louis knows that he’s happy for him. He’s proven right when Marcus raises his fist in the air. Louis immediately mimics the gesture and the two bump them together.

Louis swallows thickly, his mind suddenly snapped back into the reality of his situation when he realizes that he doesn’t want to lose his friendship with Marcus. He doesn’t want to forget he’s ever known him in the way he’s forgotten Sam. He’s so bloody scared.

“So where were you, mate?” Louis asks, trying to tear his mind away from his dark thoughts. “You’re usually here before I am.”

“I had some paperwork prepared and I had to stop by my office to pick it up. I _am_ sorry you had to wait here on your own though, Louis.” He leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “The Dragon Lady didn’t come after you did she?” He raises his hands, curving his fingers so they look like talons and Louis lets out a loud laugh. Once again, Ileana looks up from her work and Louis could swear he sees a flicker of a smile pass over her lips before she returns to the papers she’s reading.

“Nah,” Louis answers. “She didn’t come after me. Oh! But she did meet Harry.”

“She did?” Marcus asks, his voice surprised. He looks over at Ileana, eyeing her for a moment and then returns his attention to Louis. “She saw you and Harry together?” he questions.

Louis nods. “Yep. They even shook hands.”

“Interesting.” Marcus clears his throat. “Louis, I spoke with Sam and she told me about your dinner with Donald. I wish I had known about it before your session this morning because I would have used that information in my cross of Ileana’s PD5 clip, but more so because I could have been there for you. I know the things you learned last night must have been very upsetting. They were the reason for your actions that we saw in that clip, weren’t they, Louis?”

“They were,” Louis agrees. “But Marcus, you’ve been brilliant during this entire Review and you were again this morning. I don’t think I could have asked for a better person to be on my side.”

“Well, it’s been my honor, Louis. You’re a very special client and I expect great things out of you.”

“Thanks, mate,” Louis answers, humbled. But then a thought occurs to him and he asks, “Marcus, Donald won’t get in any trouble will he? I mean, for telling me about his soul mate and Sam? He was hurting so badly and he’d had a lot to drink.”

“No, Louis. There is no punishment here. The thing about the Afterlife is that there are no ill intensions and so there are no repercussions for bad behavior. Bad behavior doesn’t even exist. Donald wasn’t trying to hurt you when he shared with you last night, he was just hurting deeply himself. No trouble will come to Donald; all who know him, love him.”

“I’m so glad.” Louis feels a flush of relief for his friend. “So basically, anyone can do whatever they want here and get away with it?” he asks, only half-joking.

“Not quite,” Marcus answers, studying him carefully. “Every Resident here acts with solely good intentions and we are all purposed to serve Intakes and by doing so, our actions benefit the universe. We only act in ways that we believe in our hearts are for the greater good. But, for example, if a Resident or even an Intake, decided to ‘go rogue’, all measures would be taken to stop them so that the system will remain in balance.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Louis replies.

“Of course you don’t,” Marcus says with a grin. He taps Louis’ temple. “Three and a half percent is not a lot to work with.” Louis rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and manages to suppress his laugh.

Marcus looks at his watch then and raises an eyebrow when he reads the time.

“It’s 5:59,” Marcus says. “The Justices should be walking in any second.”

“I’m so nervous, Marcus,” Louis confesses.

“I know you are, Louis,” Marcus answers. “I’m here for you. I told you I would fight for you until the very end and I meant it.”

“I’m just hoping ‘the end’ doesn’t come within the next few minutes,” Louis mutters.

Marcus clasps Louis’ shoulder and Louis turns to look at him. Marcus stares at him for a long beat, their eyes locking and Louis isn’t sure what’s happening but he feels like Marcus is reading every thought in his head, like he can actually look right through him and can see each nook and crevice of Louis’ brain.

“Louis, I believe in you,” Marcus says, resolute. Louis feels an icy chill surge through his body and it dissipates so quickly that he isn’t even sure it actually happened in the first place.

“I… thank you, Marcus,” Louis answers, completely dumbfounded. He feels like he’s been blindsided and he doesn’t even know by what or why.

Marcus looks at his watch again.

“Good god, it’s 6:03,” he marvels. “The Justices are late.”

Ileana looks up from the delegate’s table.

“They’re late,” she repeats, her voice surprised.

“Is that a bad thing?” Louis asks, concerned.

“I don’t know,” Marcus answers. “In all of my years as an advocate, I’ve never once served on a Review Panel where the Justices were late on Verdict Day.”

“How many years have you been an advocate, Marcus?” Louis asks.

“Oh, around two-hundred eighty or so, give or take,” Marcus replies casually.

“Bloody hell,” Louis gasps, running his fingers through his fringe. “That’s a long time.” Marcus smiles and pats him on his shoulder. Louis looks at his wristwatch again. “6:05,” he mumbles.

“Don’t let this get to you, Louis. I’m sure there’s a very logical reason for the delay.” Marcus reaches over and picks up the pitcher of water and then pours a glass, handing it to Louis. “Drink.”

Louis takes the glass from Marcus and gulps down a sip before setting it back on the table.

“Better?” Marcus asks.

“Not even slightly,” Louis answers. He looks at his watch again.

 _6:07_.

“I don’t understand,” Ileana says from across the room, frustrated. “I’ve never served on a Review Panel where the Justices were late on Verdict Day,” she complains, repeating Marcus’ words verbatim.

Louis looks at her and despite his better judgment, he asks the question.

“How long have you been a delegate, Ileana?”

She opens her mouth to speak and then pauses, as if considering her answer carefully.

“For a very long time, Louis,” she offers.

Louis turns to Marcus then and he can’t hide the concern in his voice when he asks, “Do you think Harry’s verdict is delayed, too?”

“I don’t see why it would be,” Marcus starts. “He has a different – ”

Marcus stops midsentence when the door to the Review Room opens and the three Justices enter, Ileana, Marcus, and Louis immediately standing as the Justices make their way to the bench. None of the Justices look particularly happy and it fills Louis with dread.

 _This can’t be good_.

“Good evening,” the Chief Justice greets as she takes her seat at the center of the bench, gesturing to the others to each take their own. Despite the seriousness of the situation and the sour looks she and her co-counsel were sporting when they entered the room, the Chief Justice’s expression changes when she faces Louis and she smiles kindly at him, offering him an iota of comfort. “Mr. Tomlinson, I’d like to apologize for the delay in your proceedings. Our deliberations ran a bit long and time got the better of us.”

Louis doesn’t know if the fact that the Justices lost track of time is necessarily a good thing or bad, but it does appear that they thoroughly deliberated his case. Louis closes his eyes.

 _Please let that be a good thing_.

“Shall we begin,” the Chief Justice says, her tone suddenly serious. Louis feels his stomach drop as the Chief Justice looks directly at him. “Will the Intake please rise.”

 _They aren’t wasting any time_.

Louis pushes his chair back and he stands, but his legs feel shaky and he doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to stay upright. Marcus also stands and he puts his arm behind Louis’ back, offering him support.

Just then, there is the sound of loud applause from the next room over, _Harry’s room_ , and Louis drops his head and lets out an audible cry of relief. Louis knows that the cheers can only mean one thing: Harry has passed his Review. The thought makes Louis so excited and happy that for a moment he actually forgets about his own pending verdict because all that he can think about is that his beautiful Harry is moving on to the next realm. He’s so proud of him that his heart could burst right out of his chest.

 _Harry is moving forward_.

Louis can feel the tears welling in the corners of his eyes and he looks to Marcus.

“Your boy,” Marcus mouths and he smiles and nods at Louis.

“My boy,” Louis repeats, his voice just above a whisper and he can’t help the little giggle that escapes his throat because he’s just so unbelievably happy. Louis looks up then and his eyes meet Ileana’s and she doesn’t look happy at all. In fact, she looks devastated and she immediately averts her gaze, turning to look toward the Justice Bench, her movements awkward and obvious.

_“If you make the right decision and send Louis back to Earth, then I hope Harry is sent back too, because if he is allowed to move forward he will suffer greatly by losing Louis.”_

Ileana’s words from this morning flash in Louis’ mind so sudden and so bright that he literally gags on the bile that surges into the back of his throat at the thought of them. He coughs and splutters, his mouth suddenly filled with the sickly sour taste of chocolate covered strawberries, amaretto, and gastric juices. Marcus quickly hands Louis his glass of water and he chokes down a sip but he’s having trouble catching his breath and he thinks he might pass out. He’s never been so terrified.

“Mr. Tomlinson, are you all right?” the Chief Justice asks. Louis coughs again and clears his throat but he finally manages to speak.

“Yes, your honor,” he answers, although he’s anything but.

The Chief Justice nods her head toward the Viewing Screen, but Louis knows she’s indicating the room next door when she says, “I’m sorry for the interruption. Are you comfortable to proceed.”

Louis’ hands are shaking and he feels his body break out in a cold sweat, but he can’t delay this; he needs to learn his fate.

“Yes, your honor,” he says, his voice cracking.

“Very well,” the Chief Justice starts. “Before I render the verdict I’d like for it to be noted by the Advocate and Delegate that this was not a unanimous decision.”

Louis draws in a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. His legs are trembling badly now and he starts to sway on his feet. Marcus grips his shoulder to steady him.

“It’s going to be all right,” he whispers. Louis doesn’t really believe him, but he doesn’t get to dwell on it because the Chief Justice’s begins speaking again and her voice rings out loud and clear throughout the Review Room and Louis can barely breathe.

“Louis William Tomlinson, having left the earthly realm on 22, February, 2022, you were heretofore called to a Review of your life on Earth. The purpose of a Review is to determine if an Intake is of adequate character and fortitude to move forward in the universe, or if it will better serve that Intake and our great celestial system for him or her to return to Earth and experience life again.”

The Chief Justice pauses and she looks Louis squarely in the eyes and his heart is pounding so hard in his chest he feels dizzy and he’s positively certain he’s going to be sick. The Chief Justice continues.

“Mr. Tomlinson, on this, the sixth day following your death, it has hereby been determined that you are _not_ properly prepared to move forward to the next realm and that you should be returned to Earth immediately to begin a new existence and to once again, experience the miracle of life. May you use this opportunity to overcome those fears that have, in your previous lifetimes, thwarted your personal growth.”

_no._

_No._

_NO._

_This is not happening._

Louis can’t breathe. He feels a throbbing ache swell in his heart and pierce through his chest, splinters of pain shooting throughout his body, his grief so real and raw that it threatens to consume him whole. His knees begin to buckle and he can feel himself start to collapse, but then Marcus quickly grips his waist and Louis finds his bearings. He chokes a loud breath, his mouth dry as he tries to speak and at first he is too overwhelmed to do so. But then Louis finds his voice.

“You’re sending me back?” Louis loudy cries, his voice pitchy and breaking.

“We are, Mr. Tomlinson,” the Chief Justice answers. “You are to return to your hotel immediately so that your soul may begin its transition to your new life. Somewhere on Earth, there is a woman who will soon go into labor. That woman is destined to be your new mother, Louis, and her body is anticipating your arrival.”

“But I don’t want a new mother! I don’t want a new life!” Louis pleads, utterly panicked. “I have someone I love! I have a soul mate! Please don’t send me back! You’re making a huge mistake!”

Louis feels the tears begin to fall down his cheeks but he doesn’t care, he’s so angry and his heart is shattered because they are making him leave Harry and _Oh god!_ Harry is going to have to spend eternity without him and _his_ heart is going to break too, and _it’s not fair!_

“Mr. Tomlinson, I assure you that we gave your case every consideration, but in the end, it was decided by a majority ruling that it’s in the best interest of the universe for you to be returned to Earth. The decision of this Justice Panel is final.”

“Please! Don’t do this!” Louis desperately begs. He looks back and forth between the justices as he speaks and then out of the corner of his eye, he catches Ileana. She’s looking at Louis, her expression sad and when he turns to face her fully, she drops her head ever so slightly and averts her eyes. “You can’t even look at me,” Louis mutters, furious. Ileana looks up then and faces Louis straight on.

“I’m very sorry, Louis,” she says, her voice even.

Louis opens his mouth to speak, but then he feels Marcus’ hand on his wrist, stopping him.

“Your honors, I wish to file a formal disputation,” Marcus says and Louis immediately turns his head to look at him, desperate for an ounce of hope that this verdict isn’t final.

“Marcus, you’ve got to be kidding!” Ileana interjects. “The decision has been made and the verdict has been rendered. Is it really necessary for you to file a formal complaint?”

“It is, and it’s within my rights as Louis’ advocate.”

“Mr. Diamond is correct, Ms. Bachchan,” the Chief Justice replies. She turns her attention back to Marcus. “Mr. Diamond, you can have your assistant file the necessary paperwork and then we’ll set a date for the disputation at that time.”

Marcus flips open his briefcase and pulls out a sheaf of papers.

“I have the papers right here, your honor. I filed them this afternoon.”

“You filed the papers for a disputation before the verdict was even _read_ , Marcus?” Ileana cries, utterly appalled. “You’ve just proven how little faith you had in your defense, and in your client. This is positively ridiculous!”

“No,” Marcus counters. “What this proves is that I had _so much_ faith in my client that I wanted to make sure that he was protected should he fail this Review.” He turns to the Justices then, “With all due respect, your honors; you got this one wrong.” He clears his throat. “And I’m not finished. I request that the disputation be scheduled immediately following this hearing.”

Louis just stands there; completely clueless as to what is happening, his head snapping back and forth between Marcus, Ileana, and the Chief Justice, each time they speak.

“Mr. Diamond, it’s been a long day,” the Chief Justices reasons. “I think it’s best if everyone take a breather and we reconvene to discuss the disputation in a few days time so that calmer heads may prevail.”

“According to Rule 74E of the _Review Constitution_ , ‘in the event a formal disputation of a verdict is filed, the advocate counsel is entitled to a speedy hearing of said complaint’. My paperwork is filed and I demand a speedy hearing.”

“Marcus,” Ileana starts, her voice angry, but controlled. “You have Louis’ entire next lifetime to argue your disputation and you’re being ridiculous expecting us all to stay here afterhours so that you can do so now! This can wait. We’re all exhausted – ”

“I don’t care!” Marcus answers loudly. “I’m within my rights and I expect a speedy hearing!”

Marcus and Ileana continue to argue and Louis barely moves, completely numb and having no idea what’s happening. The only thing he knows for sure is that Marcus is fighting for him. Maybe this means that Louis can stay and that he can move forward with Harry, after all. He grabs Marcus’ arm, interrupting him.

“Marcus, what are you all talking about? The paperwork you filed, this disputation hearing, does it mean I can move forward with Harry?”

Marcus shakes his head, his voice sad when he answers.

“No, Louis. The paperwork and hearing just mean that I am filing a complaint with the Review Panel, during which my opposition to the verdict is formally documented. I’ll argue points from my case that I believe proved you were worthy of advancement, Ileana will no doubt object to all of them, but those points the Justice Panel decides are valid will be entered into your permanent record.”

“But what does that mean?” Louis asks, frustrated.

“It means that when you next return to Judgment City and your life is again reviewed, your new advocate will be given this file and they can formally submit my disputation to substantiate their case.”

“I’m not moving forward?” Louis cries, his hope obliterated. “The verdict stands?”

“The Justice Panel has ruled that you have to return to Earth, Louis. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Their verdict is wrong.”

“I need to see Harry,” Louis mumbles, but Marcus doesn’t hear him because Ileana has started arguing with him again and before Louis knows what’s happening the two are standing in front of the Justice Bench engaged in another heated debate. Louis’ heart is pounding and his breathing is ragged. He feels positively destroyed and it’s like nobody in the room even cares that his entire world is falling apart.

“I need to see Harry!” Louis repeats, his voice louder and when no one pays him any mind, he says the words again, this time practically shouting in his attempts to get someone, _anyone’s_ attention. “I need to see Harry!”

The Chief Justice pounds her gavel and the Review Room falls silent. Marcus quickly jogs back to Louis’ side.

“Mr. Tomlinson, you have someone you wish to say goodbye to, is that correct?” she asks.

Louis just nods his head, once again rendered speechless and this time because the Chief Justice has just asked if he needs to “say goodbye” to someone and that means that this horrible nightmare is true: he’s being sent back to Earth. Louis has to get out of this room and go see Harry. He has to explain to him that he’s leaving and it’s going to break Harry’s heart and there is absolutely nothing that Louis can do about it. He’s being sent back to Earth and by tomorrow he’s going to be a newborn baby and he’ll never know Harry again. His beautiful soul mate is going to be lost to him forever and Louis won’t even know how much he’s suffering. Harry will spend eternity without Louis and he will know the agony of loss, while Louis will become a totally different person and will be completely oblivious to all of it. It hurts so much that Louis is certain his body is breaking.

The Chief Justice looks at her watch.

“The trams that take Returning Intakes back to their hotels will be out front in seventeen minutes, Mr. Tomlinson. You may say your goodbyes and then you are to return to your hotel so that your soul can safely and comfortably transition into your new body. I know that I speak for my co-counsel when I say that it’s been our honor presiding over your case and we wish you the best of luck as you begin your new life.” She looks out over the Review Room and adds, “We’ll take a twenty minute recess and then begin the Disputation.”

_Seventeen minutes until I have to be on the tram? That’s not enough time._

Louis feels the tears gliding down his cheeks and he wipes them on his sleeve. He doesn’t want to be crying when he sees Harry for the last time. Marcus pats him on the shoulder.

“Go say goodbye to your boy, Louis. I’ll be out in a few minutes to see you off.”

Louis doesn’t have the voice to answer and so he just nods at Marcus weakly and then runs to the door of the Review Room, pulling it open and rushing outside.

Harry is standing in the corridor, speaking with Arnold and one of the Justices who presided over his case, all three men grinning and talking animatedly. Louis stops in his tracks when he sees him and for a moment, it’s like time stands still and more than anything, Louis wishes it would because then he could stay with Harry forever. Louis looks at Harry and he feels a rush of love wash over him, but his heart is breaking in his chest and he’s trying to keep it together but he knows he’s not going to last much longer. He’s so in love his whole body aches with it. He and Harry are supposed to be having their beginning and instead, their time together is coming to an end. _This can’t be happening_ , Louis thinks. But it is and now he has to tell Harry and it’s the worst pain Louis has ever known. Arnold and the Justice both shake Harry’s hand and turn and walk away and that’s when Harry looks up and sees Louis.

Harry is grinning from ear to ear and he looks so happy, but when his eyes lock with Louis’, Harry’s smile immediately falters.

“Louis,” he whispers and Louis knows that with just one look, Harry understands that Louis has failed his Review. Louis bridges the short distance between them and he takes Harry’s hands into his own.

“You’re so beautiful, Harry,” he rushes, because he only has seventeen minutes and he has so much to say, but he just has to tell Harry, one last time, how amazing he is. “You’re beautiful on the inside and you’re beautiful on the outside. You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever known and you’re moving forward, aren’t you darling?”

Harry’s eyes start to water as he searches Louis’ face before slowly replying, “We’re moving forward together, Louis.”

Louis makes a low, croaking sound, trying to hold back a sob, as he feels the tears once again begin to fill his eyes. He takes a step closer to Harry and then draws a deep breath because he has so much he wants to share with him and how is he ever going to say goodbye?

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” he starts, his voice shaky. “My Justice Panel… they ruled that I’m not ready, darling. I have to go back to Earth.”

“No.” Harry argues, his deep voice cracking. “That’s not true! You’re moving forward with me, Louis. I know you are! I just know it. You’re going to be on that train with me tonight. We’re starting our future together.”

He pulls Louis into his arm and holds on to him so tightly that Louis can barely breathe. It’s the best feeling in the world, but Louis’ heart aches because it’s also a feeling they’re both only going to get to experience for a few minutes longer and it’s not fair.

 _It’s not bloody fair_.

“I don’t have much time,” Louis whispers and Harry jerks back to look Louis in the eyes, gawking at him as if the words he is saying are utterly impossible and insane. “I have so much to say to you, darling and I need to get it out before I have to leave.”

“Stop it, Louis,” Harry demands and he sounds so angry and broken and Louis feels Harry’s sadness to the core of his bones because it’s the exact same sadness that he himself bears. “Stop saying you’re returning to Earth. It’s not funny!”

“Harry, I – ”

“I mean it, Louis! Don’t say it again. We’re moving forward together!”

Harry takes a deep, shuddering breath and then he makes a low, painful crying sound that rips Louis’ heart open as he pleads, “You’re going to take care of the plants and I’m going to do all of the cooking and we’re going to live happily ever after, Louis. We are! I swear!” He collapses onto Louis then, Harry’s body suddenly seeming so small as Louis holds him, Harry’s arms gripped tightly around Louis back, his head resting on Louis’ shoulder as he lets out loud, jagged cries.

Louis can no longer control his own tears and they begin to rapidly spill down his face.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I should have been a better person. I was weak and so afraid and now I have to leave you and it’s my own fault – ”

“No!” Harry protests, standing upright to look at Louis, tears rolling down his cheeks. He grips Louis’ shoulders and rests his forehead against his. “You’re not weak and you’re not afraid! You’re the best person I know, Louis! They made a mistake. They got your verdict wrong.” Louis shakes his head because he can’t believe how much Harry loves him and this time; it’s Louis who is collapsing onto Harry’s chest.

“I told them they made a mistake, Haz. I asked them to let me stay and the Chief Justice; she told me the decision was final and that I have to go to my hotel and go to sleep. I’m going to be a baby tomorrow, Harry! I have to leave you and I’m so terrified. I don’t want to start over again. I want to stay here with you!”

“I don’t want you to go,” Harry croaks in response.

Louis lets out another anguished sob then and Harry squeezes him tight, the two men standing in the corridor holding each other and both crying uncontrollably. But then Louis remembers that he doesn’t have much time. He doesn’t know how much time Harry has either, for that matter, before he has to leave for the New Resident Orientation. Louis has to say the thing he’s most of all dreaded saying, and he has to say it right now. He pulls back and wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his tupa and clears his throat, trying to prepare himself.

“Harry, I need to say something to you, darling,” and Harry just looks at him, his bottom lip quivering, his beautiful green eyes lost in pools of tears. Louis closes his eyes for a long beat and then he forces himself to open them and continue. “You’re so special, Harry, and you have so much love to give.” Harry immediately begins shaking his head and it’s clear he knows where Louis is going with this and he doesn’t want to hear it.

“No, Louis,” Harry whispers.

“Listen to me, Harry. You’re going to be here for eternity and that’s a very long time and I can’t bear the thought of you spending that time alone.”

“Stop it, Louis,” Harry starts, his voice a low, painful whine. “Don’t you dare say it.”

“I have to, darling, because I love you so much,” Louis answers and he swallows around a sickly sour lump in his throat. “I need you to keep your heart open, Harry. I want you to experience love again.”

Harry takes a step back, letting go of his grip on Louis so they are no longer touching and the loss of contact is like a knife piercing Louis’ heart. “Stop it!” he repeats his face red with anger, his cheeks striped with tears. “Don’t you even suggest I find someone else, Louis! There is nobody else for me. You are my soul mate and there will never be anyone else!”

Louis reaches out to Harry, but Harry takes another step back, shaking his head and it hurts Louis so much because he’s just trying to make him understand. He’s saying this for Harry’s own good and because he loves Harry more than anything. Harry is far too wonderful to spend forever alone, mourning the loss of Louis.

“Please,” Louis says, the word coming out as more of a squeak than anything else. “I love you so much, Harry,” he cries and he drops his head, cradling it in his palms as he tries to control his tears, but they are coming so hard and so fast that they cause his shoulders to shake. Immediately, he feels Harry’s arms around him.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Lou,” Harry whispers, gently pushing Louis’ hands away to pepper kisses all over his face. “Please stop crying, sweetheart,” he begs, his voice thick with tears.

“I don’t want to have to say this to you, Harry. I want to _stay_ with you,” Louis emphasizes, his own voice wet and anguished

“I want you to stay with me, Louis. Please, don’t go.”

Harry clutches Louis’ waist, the material of his tupa bunching in Harry’s hands as he pulls Louis close and nuzzles their cheeks together. Louis rests his hands on Harry’s shoulders and then he pushes Harry back, just enough so that he can slide his hands down the front of Harry’s chest, his thumbs lining up in the familiar position as he stretches out his fingers to encompass the wings of the butterfly that is hidden away beneath Harry’s tupa and tattooed on his skin.

“They’re sending me back, Harry,” Louis tries again, this time intent on finishing what he needs to say. “And you’re too wonderful to spend forever alone.” Harry opens his mouth to speak but Louis cuts him off. “Please, let me say this.” Harry takes another sharp breath and nods his head in agreement. “I’m not asking you to find someone else tomorrow, Harry. I’m just asking you to keep your heart open, darling. If you meet someone – ”

Louis abruptly stops midsentence, overwhelmed by the words coming out of his mouth because to hear them spoken out loud and to be saying them directly to Harry is devastating. When Louis said these things to Marta earlier, he still had a glimmer of hope that he would move forward. Now that hope is vanished and this is all so real and it’s the worst feeling Louis has ever known. He is consumed by grief; his heart heavy with the knowledge that he will soon be leaving Harry to start all over again, something Louis desperately does _not_ want to do. He takes a deep breath because he needs to finish this.

“If you should meet someone who treats you like you deserve… Someone who is kind to you and appreciates how wonderful you are…” Louis curls his fingers and then spreads them out again, shaking his head in disbelief that he actually has to say these painful words to the man he loves. “If you meet someone who _deserves_ you. Just… just give them a chance, okay?”

“Louis, no,” Harry cries. “No! I don’t want anyone else and I never will.”

“But you’ll keep your heart open and you’ll give love another chance, Harry? Please. Promise, that you’ll do that for me, darling. I want my last thought before I go to sleep to be that you’re going to be happy again. I can’t bear the thought of you being all alone forever. You have too much love inside of you not to share it with someone else, and that person will be the luckiest person in the universe.”

“I don’t want to promise you that, Louis,” Harry says, his tears continuing to fall. He clutches the collar of Louis’ tupa and once again rests their foreheads together, Harry’s breath warm on Louis’ lips. “Please don’t ask me to, Louis. _Please_.”

“H-Harry,” Louis stutters. “I’m begging you, darling. Just keep your heart open.” He pulls back; his eyes searching Harry’s face and Harry can barely meet his gaze, intent on denying Louis his wish. “Hazza, please,” Louis asks again, his voice barely a whisper. “Promise that you’ll try? For me?”

Harry’s brow furrows and he takes several jagged breaths as he just stares at Louis with so much sadness in his expression that Louis can hardly maintain eye contact, but he’s not going to look away, no matter how much it hurts. He only has a few minutes left with Harry and he wants to stare at Harry for every last one of them.

“Okay,” Harry breathes, his voice defeated. He looks skyward, his eyes not meeting Louis’ when he adds, “I promise.”

Louis’ own eyes immediately fall shut at Harry’s declaration. He doesn’t feel happy. The man he desperately loves just agreed to keep his heart open so that he may someday love someone who is _not_ Louis and the finality of that gesture all but shatters Louis to his core. But Louis does experience a flush of relief because in agreeing to Louis’ request, Harry might avoid the painful heartache that Donald currently and continuously has suffered since he passed his own Review and lost Jane. Maybe Harry will find joy again.

 _With someone else_.

“Thank you, darling,” Louis says, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and hugging him close. He rests his head on Harry’s shoulder and Harry slides his hands up Louis’ back, spreading his fingers and holding on to Louis tightly.

“Harry, it’s time to go,” comes a female voice from behind him, and Louis feels a burst of anxiety shoot through him at the prospect of being separated from Harry so soon.

_No. No. No. This can’t be it!_

Harry turns their bodies so that he and Louis are both facing the voice, but he doesn’t let go of him, the two men still gripping on to each other for all they’re worth.

Sam is standing in front of them and she looks so sad and Louis knows that from the way that he and Harry are clinging to each other and by their tear-stained faces, it’s obvious to her that Louis is getting sent back to Earth.

“I’m so sorry, Louis,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry for both of you, but Harry, we need to leave. The New Resident Orientation starts in a few minutes and I need to get you there on time.

“I don’t want to move forward!” Harry suddenly blurts out and Sam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I’m going to return to Earth, with Louis.” Louis jerks his head up and looks at Harry, his own face bearing the same shocked expression as Sam’s.

“What?” Louis whispers, completely struck by what Harry is saying.

“What?” Sam repeats, her own voice dumbfounded.

“I’m not moving forward without Louis.” Harry declares. “If Louis can’t move forward with me, then I’m going back with him.” He looks at Louis then and his expression is so tender and his voice so sweet when he says, “I’ll go back with you, Lou. We’re soul mates. You’re my destiny and I’m not going anywhere without you. Maybe we’ll meet on Earth, or maybe we’ll meet back here, but we’ll meet as new people and we’ll get a fresh start. We’ll fall in love all over again, sweetheart.”

Once again, the tears begin to spill down Louis’ cheeks because how is this possible? How is Harry so wonderful?

"Harry... Louis..." Sam says, shaking her head. She's obviously trying to find the right words to say, but both men ignore her, completely focusing on one another instead.

“You would do that for me, Harry?” Louis asks. “I-I can’t ask you to do that for me, darling. You deserve to move forward.”

“You didn’t ask, Louis. It’s something that I _want_ to do.” Harry leans in and presses his lips against Louis’ own, the kiss soft and so filled with love that Louis feels it through to his toes. “We won’t advance now, but we’ll go back to your hotel and I’ll hold you in my arms and we’ll fall asleep together, Louis. We’ll transition back to Earth together and maybe we’ll wake up in the same hospital nursery or maybe we’ll be newborns on different continents. But it doesn’t matter, because I know that if I go back to Earth with you; we will meet again. We will fall in love, either on Earth or in this place, and when the time is right we will advance. I told you, Louis: we’re moving forward together.”

Louis feels hope. If Louis is sent back to Earth he won’t remember Harry when he next crosses over to the Afterlife. He’ll lose every single thought of the beautiful man who stands before him and he’ll never know how much they loved each other. All the while, Harry will suffer endless heartbreak because he _won’t_ ever forget their love. But maybe, just maybe, if they go back to Earth _together_ , everything Harry just said will come to fruition. They’ll meet again. They’ll fall in love again. They’ll spend forever together.

Harry’s mouth turns up into a cautious smile as he searches Louis’ face to determine if Louis is on board with his plan.

 _I’m on board_.

Louis can’t help it when he breaks into a happy grin. He lets out a relieved giggle and says the words they’ve repeated so often to one another: “We’re moving forward to – ”

“Harry, I’m sorry, it doesn’t work that way,” Sam interrupts, her voice adamant. Louis’ stomach drops, his smile falling just as fast. Harry squeezes him tighter. “You can’t just decide you don’t want to move forward. It is already _written_ , Harry. You’ve lived all the Earthly lives that you will ever live and your soul is a Resident soul now. You’re moving forward.”

“No!” Harry cries and Louis feels his heart shatter all over again, his thread of hope disintegrating as quickly as it was brought back into one piece. It was bad enough the first time during his verdict when he learned he was being sent back to Earth. Louis’ hope was blown away on the wind when his verdict was read. But then Harry came up with his selfless plan to return to Earth with Louis, and Louis felt that hope breeze back in, forming a tight little string that Sam’s words immediately sliced through and shredded.

“I can’t tell you how sad this makes me, Harry. I hate to do this to you and Louis because I know how much you love one another and I know you both deserve to stay together. But you’re moving forward and we have to go. _Now_.”

“Three minutes!” Harry barks at Sam, his voice thick and the tears once again falling down his beautiful face. He lovingly runs his thumb along Louis’ jaw and Louis chokes out a painful gasp when Harry continues speaking, his tone soft and so sad. “I just need three minutes to snog you properly and then I can go.”

“All right,” Sam replies quietly. “I’ll give you three minutes, but then I’ll be back and when I come back… we’re leaving, Harry.”

Louis and Harry don’t even hear her walk away; they just immediately collapse into a passionate embrace. Louis kisses Harry so fiercely, trying to convey all of the love he feels in one last kiss. The kiss is untamed and desperate. It’s like both men are attempting to hold something together that is falling apart and crumbling to bits in their hands and with every smack of their lips and glide of their tongues all Louis can think of is how fleeting life and death are, but how lucky he was to have known Harry, even for this short time.

 _I loved him a lifetime’s worth_.

“You did,” Harry whispers, breaking the kiss. “You loved me forever’s worth.” Louis lets out an anguished little cry against Harry’s lips because they’re reading each other’s minds again and it’s for the last time and the pain he now endures at losing his soul mate is blinding.

Louis hears approaching footsteps and _no, no, no_.

“We have to go now, Harry,” Sam gently prods. “It’s time.”

Harry and Louis reluctantly pull apart, but they still hold on to one another, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists.

“You’re going to do so many wonderful things, Harry,” Louis says, tucking one of Harry’s loose curls behind his ear. “You’re going to go to the next realm and learn new things and when you’re finished, you’re going to come back here and make a positive impact on the New Intakes. You’ll help people, Harry. I’m so proud of you, darling.”

“Louis,” Harry whimpers as they walk toward the lifts, Sam leading the way. She presses the _Down_ button. “I love you so much. I don’t want to go forward without you.”

Louis turns to Harry and they once again settle into a fierce hug, Louis looking into Harry’s eyes when he says, “I love you, Harry. I would live a thousand lifetimes to experience your love again. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me and I want you to take my love with you.” Harry nods his head and sniffles.

The lift bell chimes.

Louis closes his eyes trying to steady himself.

The doors open.

Harry plants a series of desperate kisses all over Louis’ face, the two men hanging on to one another until Sam grips Harry’s elbow and gently pulls him away from the man he loves. She directs him onto the lift, Harry stumbling as he walks backwards and away from Louis, the pain of their separation searing through Louis’ body and causing him to let out a low, muffled cry.

“I wish you the best of luck, Louis,” Sam says.

Louis doesn’t want luck. He wants to move forward with Harry. Instead, both of their hearts are breaking.

Harry and Sam stand side by side inside the lift car and Louis and Harry stare at each other, the space between them measuring only a meter or two, but soon, that space will measure a lifetime. The motor sounds, indicating the lift doors are about to close and Louis puts his hand on his heart as Harry does the same.

 _I saw you and I fell in love,_ Louis thinks as he stares into Harry’s green eyes. Harry doesn’t say the words out loud but Louis hears them clearly, just the same, and he mouths them along with Harry: “And you smiled because you knew.”

The lift doors start to close, coming in from either side of the doorframe to meet in the middle. Louis’ view into the lift gets smaller until Sam disappears completely, obstructed by the right door, and all Louis can see before him is Harry, staring sadly back at him as the doors continue to close in.

 _You’ll keep your heart open_ , Louis thinks because he wants nothing but the best for Harry and the best surely must involve Harry sharing his love with someone else.

Harry’s face falls. He furrows his brow. He’s all but disappeared, the doors mere inches from shutting completely when Louis hears Harry loudly cry out, “No!” from inside the car and suddenly his hand juts out between the two doors, his palm flat and turned upright. The lift doors immediately bounce open, Harry having triggered the sensor mechanism that prevents them from closing as passengers enter and exit the lift. The gap is small, probably no more than a third of a meter, but Harry turns his body sideways and jumps off, his movements so fast that the doors don’t open completely, they just bounce back shut behind him and as they close, Louis catches sight of Sam’s shocked expression, which he is certain mirrors his own.

Harry barrels into him. He grabs Louis and pushes him back a few meters from the lift and then he wraps his big, strong hands around the sides of Louis’ neck, cradling the base of his skull, his thumbs stroking Louis’ cheeks.

“Listen to me, Louis,” Harry commands, his voice firm, his eyes crystal clear and so green they practically burn through Louis’ skin. “We don’t have much time because she is going to come back and so I need you to listen to me and not interrupt. Do you understand?”

Louis nods his head dumbly and Harry lets out a relieved breath and then quickly kisses Louis’ lips before once again speaking.

“I have never lied to you before and I am not going to start now. There will _never_ be anyone else for me. Never. This is not the end. Do you hear me? You are my soul mate and you are going to come back to me. This love just doesn’t die, Louis. I’m not going to let that happen.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers sadly and Harry presses his index finger to Louis’ lips to silence him.

“I’ll take a job at Intake and I will wait for you. I’ll be watching for you, Louis, every single day, and you _will_ come back to me.”

 _But I won’t know you_ , Louis thinks and Harry must read Louis’ mind because he immediately answers his thoughts. “I’ll _make_ you know me, Louis. I’ll be your Intake nurse and I’ll take care of you. I’ll follow you back to your hotel and I’ll camp outside your room, and I’ll do whatever it takes so that you will _know me_ again.”

“Harry,” Louis cries, his voice flustered, “Jane came back and she didn’t know Donald. She didn’t know him at all! You can’t just make me remember you, darling. That’s not how the universe works.”

“I’m tired of hearing how the universe works, Louis!” Harry snaps. He nervously looks back at the lift, his speech rushed as he continues. “We’re soul mates.” He grabs Louis’ left arm and pushes up his sleeve all the way to the elbow, pointing at the tattoo that is splayed across his skin. “You’re my destiny, Louis and I’m yours. It’s written on our skin.” He runs his finger over Louis’ tattoo. “You got the dagger, Louis,” he says, and then he looks into Louis’ eyes.

“You chose the rose,” Louis whispers and Harry gives him a small, hopeful smile. “But Harry, what if I come back and I’m –”

“If you’re an old man, I’ll take care of you, Louis,” Harry interrupts, once again answering Louis’ thoughts. “I’ll wash your feet and hold your hand and I’ll tell you stories of the gorgeous, brave man I loved, and I’ll be so _happy_ , Louis. I’ll be so happy because I’ll have you in my life again.”

“You’re dead, Harry,” Louis sniffles and Harry lets out a bubbly little laugh.

Louis scrubs his hand over his face, trying to formulate his thoughts because his brain is going one hundred and eighty kilometers an hour and that’s a lot for someone who only uses three and a half percent. Louis’ bond with Harry is the strongest connection he’s ever known. They never so much as passed each other on the street while they were on Earth and yet they each visited tattoo parlors again and again to get complimentary tattoos that matched the ink driven into the other’s skin. They both were sentimental fools who fell in love with the same quote and they each carried that quote – scribbled on a Spiderman sticky note by Louis – in their wallets. They saw each other and they fell in love. They are each other’s destiny.

“I don’t care how old you are, or the color of your skin, or your sex. I don’t care about any of those things, as long as you come back to me,” Harry implores. He drops his hands to Louis’ shoulders and Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist. “Do you still believe in us, Louis?” he whispers.

Louis doesn’t even have to think about it. He feels the threads of hope beginning to pull together, wrapping around each other into a tight string, the string being joined by others to form a sturdy cord, and that cord reinforced still until it’s a rugged rope, unbreakable and true. Fucking hell, he believes in them.

“I’ve got the rope,” Louis breathes and he can feel his lips turning into a small smile. Harry breaks out into a wide grin, his dimple popping on his cheek and Louis gently dips the pad of his thumb inside the soft indent.

“And I’ve got the anchor,” Harry answers.

“I believe in us,” Louis says and the words are true and sure. Louis is not going to just give up. What he and Harry have is too rare and wonderful to just throw away. He’s been struggling through his whole Review process but in every single session he stood up for himself. He’s not just going to turn his back on Harry now. They can send him back to Earth, but they can’t destroy his love for Harry; their bond is too strong.

“This bond shall not be broken,” Louis says, repeating Harry’s words from earlier. He breathes out a sharp puff of air, shocked by his own strength and determination.

“This bond shall not broken,” Harry repeats and he looks so happy that it fills Louis’ own heart with joy.

“But, Harry,” Louis says, suddenly panicked. “When Jane come back, she found someone new. He wasn’t her soul mate like Donald, but she fell in love anyway. What if that happens to me?”

“Do you honestly think I’m going to let that happen, Louis?” Harry asks, like Louis’ question is the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard. He looks over his shoulder again at the lift and Louis thinks to himself it must be some kind of miracle that Sam hasn’t come back yet. She and Harry were the only people on the lift car and she could have gotten off on any floor and then immediately hopped on another lift to come back up. “I’ll be waiting for you when you come back and I’ll follow you around like a puppy dog if I have to, but I will _not_ let you fall in love with anyone else. You won’t even have the time with the way I’ll be commandeering all of your attention.”

“I could never love anyone else, anyway,” Louis concedes, his resolution growing stronger by the second. An idea strikes him and he excitedly shares it with Harry. “I’ll think about you before I go to sleep and maybe… maybe if I do that I can take a little piece of you with me, like – you’ll leave an imprint on me?” Harry nods his head furiously in agreement.

“Yes! Yes! An imprint, Louis! Just do as you said and think about me before you go to sleep and maybe a tiny part of me will be stamped on your soul. Think about me, Louis. Think about me.”

“You’re the only thing I’ll be thinking about, Harry. I promise you.” Louis takes a deep breath. “You’ll wait for me and I’ll fight for us, Harry. I’ll come back to you.”

“This love doesn’t end,” Harry says and then he pulls Louis in and kisses him and Louis gives in to it all: the kiss, the hope, and the belief that despite what he’s been told by Marcus and Donald and others, he won’t lose his memory of everything about Judgment City when he returns to Earth. He’ll keep a little piece of Harry with him. He’ll come back to him.

“This love doesn’t end,” Louis echoes.

The lift bell chimes and Louis hears the motors running as the doors start to open. He and Harry turn and face the lift and Louis can’t help but let out a huff of a laugh when he sees Sam. She’s completely exasperated, standing with one hand on her hip and the other against the wall of the lift. Louis knows that she’s holding the _Doors Open_ button. He knows that this time, she’s not going to allow Harry to escape the car that is taking him to his future.

_A future without me._

Louis immediately pushes the negative thought of his mind. He has hope. He’s not going to let it slip away again.

“Harry,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow, her voice laced with frustration. “It’s really time to go.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay,” Harry answers and he tugs Louis with him back toward the lift. They stand directly in front of the doorframe and Harry pulls Louis into his arms and they kiss like they haven’t a care in the universe. They kiss like Harry’s advocate isn’t standing a half a meter away, ducking her head uncomfortably and trying to avoid watching such a deeply personal moment, even though it’s happening right in front of her. Louis knows they’re being rude and he doesn’t care in the slightest. This is the last kiss he’ll share with Harry and he wants it to go on forever and as he realizes that _this is actually it_ , he can feel the sharp pains begin to pierce through his chest and into his heart because even though he has a shred of hope, he’s not going to have Harry again for a very long time, and that thought guts him.

“Harry,” Sam repeats, her voice sad. “I know this is difficult for both of you, but we have to go."

Harry and Louis break their kiss.

“I’ll love you until my last breath of death and I’ll carry you with me until my first breath of life,” Louis says, his voice breaking. Tears begin to well in his eyes and just as fast start to spill down his cheeks. He’s cried so much today; he didn’t think he’d have any tears left.

“You’ll think of me,” Harry implores, grasping Louis’ hands as he steps backwards into the lift car. He holds on to them and he doesn’t let go as their arms begin to stretch and extend, bridging the distance between the inside of the lift where Harry has retreated and the corridor outside, where Louis stands. They hang on to one another until the very end.

“I’ll think of you and nothing else,” Louis agrees and he leans forward and kisses the tops of Harry’s hands before Harry reluctantly pulls them away.

“I love you, Louis,” Harry says and he wipes at his eyes, brushing away the tears that have started to fall again.

“I love you, too, d-darling,” Louis answers, stuttering on the last word as his tears begin to rush harder.

“You’ll fight for us,” Harry reiterates, but he doesn’t speak the words out loud, he only thinks them, yet Louis hears them clearly, nonetheless. Sam steps away from the door and Louis knows she’s released the _Doors Open_ button because the doors immediately begin to close and Louis watches helplessly and heartbroken as they move inwards and begin to obstruct his view of Harry. Harry places his hand over his heart and Louis does the same.

“I’ll fight for us!” Louis promises as the doors close all the way and Harry disappears.

 _Harry is gone_.

And this time, Louis knows, he won’t be coming back.

Louis made a vow to Harry and he’s going to honor his words: he’s going to fight for him. Louis intends to think of Harry and nothing else from now until he gets back to The Regency hotel and once there, when he climbs into his bed, alone and without the man he loves, Louis is going to be thinking of Harry then, too. He’s going to repeat Harry’s name again and again and it will be the only thought he has as he falls asleep and begins his transition. He will cling to his hope until the very end of his death and in doing so; maybe the universe will show mercy on him and Harry and bring the two of them back together. _Someday_.

Louis has hope.

But it still hurts.

It’s gut wrenching really: the thought of having to start all over again at life. Louis is going to have a new family. He will no longer have the beautiful mother with the long brown hair who makes him feel so safe and loved. Gone will be the house full of sisters and long sought brother all of whom he desperately adores. He will no longer have his best mate, Liam or his friends John and Chloe. All the people who mattered to him on Earth will be replaced with other faces, other names. He will be a blank slate: a crying newborn who will have to go through every stage of development from toddlerhood to adolescence to adulthood, and he’ll do it all without ever knowing his previous life existed, much less the brief respite of death that brought him his friends Marcus, Donald, Ed, and so many others.

Louis won’t know Harry.

He will fight until the very end to take his memory of Harry with him, but there is no guarantee he will ever see the man with the chestnut curls and bright green eyes and raspberry lips, again. Louis may never get to place his thumbs on the body of the butterfly and spread his hands over the insect’s wings, or feel that warm, creamy skin that he loves so much quiver beneath his touch as he trails his fingertips over Harry’s body. Harry is barely gone and Louis is already is aching to kiss his lips and hold him close. Their time together was so fleeting.

“I will fight for you, Harry,” Louis vows lowly, and then he drops to his knees and he cries. The tears spill hard and fast, his body racked with sobs so violent that he wraps his arms around his stomach and clutches his gut, the pain physical and brutal and it’s the worst thing he’s ever endured.

“I’ll fight for you, Harry,” Louis says again, this time a little louder.

He feels a warm hand on his shoulder.

“You’re going to be okay, Louis.”

 _Marcus_.

Louis stands with Marcus’ help and as soon as he’s on his feet, Marcus pulls him into a hug.

“They’re sending me back!” Louis cries as Marcus pats him on the back.

“Their ruling was wrong, Louis,” Marcus states emphatically. “You’re ready to move forward. I’ve no doubt about it.”

Louis breaks the hug, trying to pull himself together. He makes kitten paws with his tupa sleeps and rubs them over his eyes, wiping away his tears because he’s not going back to Earth broken and defeated. He’s going to go back a fighter. But still, it hurts so much.

“If I’m ready to move forward, how could they make that decision?” Louis asks, his heartache slowly being infiltrated by anger.

“Louis, in two hundred and eighty years I’ve never seen a Justice Panel enter a Review Room late. Hell, I’ve only served a handful of Reviews where the verdicts weren’t unanimous. Your Review was different and I believe they made the wrong decision.”

“What does it matter?” Louis mutters. “Harry is moving forward and I’m going back to Earth and we belong together.”

“You do,” Marcus agrees, his voice sad. “I sincerely believe you do.” Marcus looks at his wristwatch. “Louis, it’s almost time.”

 _It’s almost time_.

It’s almost time for Louis to go downstairs and catch the tram that will take him back to his hotel and then he has to go to sleep and start a new life. He doesn’t want to do any of those things. He can’t bear the thought of climbing on that green tram without Harry. In fact, the thought of sitting on the tram at all is making his skin crawl. He wants to take a walk as a man one last time. The hotel isn’t too far. He and Harry walked all the way back to The Regency from the Future Exhibition Center and that was several blocks further south than the Review Center.

“Do I have to take the tram back to my hotel, Marcus?” Louis asks. “I’d rather walk.”

“You don’t have to take the tram back, Louis. But your transition is going to be starting soon.” Marcus looks Louis squarely in the eyes and once again Louis has that strange feeling like he did before his verdict that Marcus is looking right through him. “Are you sure you want to walk, Louis?”

“Yes,” Louis answers. “I’m sure.” Marcus nods his head slightly in acknowledgment, but he’s still studying Louis closely and Louis really doesn’t understand why.

“Very well. I’ll arrange for your tram operator to be informed that you’ve chosen to walk.”

“Why do you have to inform him? I’ve never had to check-in with a tram operator before."

“This time is different, Louis. Your name is on a list.”

“Oh,” Louis answers sadly. _This is really happening_. He clears his throat. “Can you walk me to my hotel, Marcus?”

“I’m afraid not, Louis.” Marcus tilts his head in the direction of the Review Room. “I’m not done in there. But I can walk you to the lifts.”

Louis’ footsteps are heavy. He feels like he’s on a death march when in fact, he’s on a life march and in this case, that’s so much worse. He doesn’t want to go back.

They reach the lift and Marcus presses the _Down_ button and Louis just stands there, facing the closed doors while trying to remain calm. He’s so sorry to be saying goodbye to his friend.

“I want to tell you how proud I am of you, Louis,” Marcus says. They turn and face one another. “You stood up for yourself through every phase of your Review, including after your verdict was read. You acted bravely in life and in death. You should be very proud of yourself.” Marcus’ goes quiet and looks down at the floor for a moment. Louis thinks he may be trying to hold back tears and the fact that Marcus is getting so emotional touches Louis deeply.

The lift doors open and Louis steps inside. Marcus takes a step forward and stands in the framework of the doors, his body activating the motion sensors that keep the doors open.

 _This is it_.

Louis has to say goodbye to Marcus. His time in this realm is almost over and he’s going back to Earth. _I don’t want to go back to Earth_ , Louis thinks to himself, but he’s not going to start crying again. He’s going to leave this building and get out on the pavement and he’s going to repeat Harry’s name the entire way back to the hotel and he’s not going to stop saying it until leaves this realm for good.

_I’ll fight for you, Harry._

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me, Marcus,” Louis says, his voice restrained as he tries to hold back his tears. “You’ve not only been my advocate, but you’ve been my friend and I’m truly grateful.”

“It’s been my great honor to be both,” Marcus answers and he extends his arms and Louis takes a step forward into them to give Marcus one last hug goodbye. Marcus grips Louis’ shoulders and Louis can feel that his eyes are starting to get wet and he does not want to cry so he starts to step back; he tries to break the embrace. But Marcus pulls him back in and when he does, he tilts his head and whispers in Louis’ ear and the words that he says cause Louis to jerk his head back so that he can search Marcus’ face.

“What?” Louis says, the word more a burst of breath than anything really audible. Marcus looks into Louis’ eyes for a long beat and then he leans back in and whispers the words again and this time when he pulls away, Louis is staring at him with his mouth hanging open, utterly confused.

“It’s time for you to go, Louis,” Marcus declares. He takes a step back so that he is now standing in the corridor, just outside the framework of the open doors to the lift. Louis continues to gawk stupidly at him and Marcus stares back intently, both men standing perfectly still. Louis hears the whirring motors that control the heavy door panels and the two doors emerge from their recessed positions within the doorframe and start to glide inward toward one another, all the while Louis and Marcus never breaking eye contact as the distance between the doors gets smaller and smaller. Marcus’ expression is completely unreadable but then, the corners of his lips turn up in a smile so slight it’s barely detectable.

Marcus winks.

Louis’ opens his mouth to speak, just as the doors close completely.

*********

Earth

Rotherham. United Kingdom.

The wife stands over the stove, stirring a large pot of beef stew she made especially for her husband. It’s a hearty dish: brimming with thick chunks of sirloin, potatoes, carrots, and onions, the rue made from a mixture of cornstarch, flour and cabernet wine. Served with crusty bread and a slab of Irish butter, the stew is by far her husband’s favorite meal and she thinks that after the past few weeks of terrible suppers, he absolutely deserves this comfort food.

It’s been nearly three long weeks since the wife last cooked, and while her husband has always tried, he’s proven time and again that he is a disaster in the kitchen.

From the first meal he made for her when they were dating – mushy pasta noodles purporting to be spaghetti covered in greasy ketchup he proudly heralded as “sauce,” the wife knew she would be the one in charge of their sustenance, lest they both starve.

Now, here they are, five plus years later, married, both with successful careers, and expecting their first, and in spite of his many valiant attempts, despite the dozens of cookbooks that line the shelves in their kitchen, and hours he’s spent watching every cooking show on the BBC, her husband, is without a doubt, the most horrible cook she’s ever known.

Bless.

The wife knows her husband is tired of takeaway. They’ve ordered in nearly every night since she went on partial bed rest five weeks ago and in that time they’ve worked their way through the menus of every restaurant within a forty-kilometer radius.

Not surprisingly, pizza pie, buckets of chicken, and cartons of Chinese food gets old after a while and despite the occasional casserole or pot roast delivered by a caring family member or neighbor, the wife knows she and her husband are both craving a home cooked meal that is actually prepared in their _own_ home.

Besides, the wife has had _a lot_ of energy over the past few days. She’s only allowed to be on her feet for a maximum of two hours per day, the rest of her time relegated to the couch or the bed, but during that little window of freedom, the wife has managed to accomplish a great deal.

She’s washed all the sheets for the nursery and dressed the cot in fresh linens.

Twice.

She’s also laundered all of the baby clothes and folded them neatly and put them away in the oak bureau that sits against the wall opposite the cot. The changing table is fully stocked with nappies and wipes, ointment and baby powder, and a host of cozy stuffed plushies all boasting a jungle theme. Basically everything their new child will need to keep him or her dry, warm, and comfortable is tucked safely in its proper place.

 _Nesting_.

Her doctor called this sudden inexplicable motivation to get everything organized for their new arrival, “nesting” and she warned the wife that once the nesting starts, the baby wouldn’t be too long after.

Still, the wife isn’t due for two more weeks and as she taps the heavy wooden spoon on the inside of the stew pot and then places it on a ceramic trivet that rests on the center of the stove, she thinks to herself that two weeks might as well be an eternity. She feels like she’s been pregnant forever and the bed rest hasn’t helped matters, at all. Her feet are swollen and her back aches and she just wants to hold her baby in her arms.

 _Soon_.

The wife places the lid back on the stew pot and turns down the burner to the lowest setting, and then she hears the front door open. The husband is home early.

She feels the slightest twinge in her abdomen as she turns to greet him.

“You’re cooking?” he immediately asks, the question obviously rhetorical given the fact that she’s standing in front of a hot stove, a pot of stew simmering away behind her. “You know you should be resting, love. Your high blood pressure!”

“Don’t I at least get a ‘hello’ before you reprimand me like a small child?” the wife asks, her tone more playful than annoyed.

“Oh! Of course, Jess. I just worry about you, is all.”

The husband kisses her cheek and then wraps his arm behind her back, gently rubbing her massive belly with his free hand. He leans over and speaks directly to it. “Hello, in there! Your mum is on her feet, ignoring doctor’s orders, just so that your dear old dad can have – ” He looks up at his wife. “What’s for supper, love?”

“Beef stew,” she answers.

The husband’s eyes momentarily fall shut in anticipation of the meal and the wife is quite pleased with herself.

“Beef stew!” The husband excitedly repeats to the wife’s belly. “Your mum has broken the rules and made me beef stew.” He stands up and faces his wife, his voice soft when he continues speaking. “You know you shouldn’t be exerting yourself, Jess. Don’t think that I haven’t noticed all the work you’ve been doing in the nursery, either. You’re not supposed to be on your feet for more than two hours per day. Maximum!”

The wife feels another twitch, but it barely registers and her voice is calm when she replies, “I promise. I threw this stew together in thirty minutes and I was seated while I was chopping all of the vegetables. I didn’t exert – ”

Just then, there is a sudden, indescribable force in the wife’s body, her entire lower abdomen feeling heavy and full and there is so much pressure on her bladder that she thinks she might wet her pants. The wife looks at her husband and her eyes go wide in shock and she leans forward a bit, her lips parting as she draws in a deep breath. But then there is a _pop_ , not so much a sound, but more of a sensation, like the release of a cork from a bottle of champagne and she feels glorious relief as the pressure instantly subsides, warm liquid gushing out of her body and saturating the crotch panel and entire inseam of her maternity trousers before pooling at her feet and soaking the bottoms of her slippers.

The wife and the husband look down at the floor at the same time, each taking a step back, the polished tip of the husband’s left oxford landing in a small puddle. They raise their heads and once again look at one another.

The husband fish mouths and at first, he doesn’t manage a sound. The wife, on the other hand, lets out a shocked little laugh.

The husband clears his throat, his voice halting and laced with shock when he whispers, “What just happened, Jess?”

The wife looks at her husband and she can’t help but be endeared because honestly, he’s asking _her_ , “What just happened?” He’s read more baby books than she has for Pete’s sake. Still, reading about childbirth is entirely different that seeing it actually happen first hand, so she cuts him a break.

This time.

“Well, my love,” the wife starts, stepping out of her wet slippers, the husband supporting her by holding on to her waist as she slips them off her feet. She looks up at him and grins. “I’m in labor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go!  
> I will be posting a Harry POV epilogue after the final chapter is posted.  
> Thank you so much for reading. xx


	20. This is Not the End (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My best friend. For 27 years my #1 soul sister, keeper of my secrets, and my other half. I never could have written Ch. 12 without her. She was an avid golfer (a sport I detest) and I called her constantly with random questions about the game. She knew I read fic, but she wasn't in the 1D fandom - although she loved "that precious, hot Liam." One day, I asked her what really good golfers would shoot by the 4th hole and she suddenly asked, "OMG! Are you writing a 1D fanfiction about golf?" I laughed and made up some excuse. My intention was to share this fic with her when it was complete, not before. Then, on the very day I finished writing Ch. 19, she took her dog for a walk and her life came to a sudden end. I will never be the same. It's been the most horrific loss of my life, save for my father which was wholly different. Sometimes I miss her so much I can barely breathe. I don't purport to know what happens when we die, but if she had a Review, I've no doubt my sweet, brave, best friend passed hers with flying colors. I'll love that darling girl until my last breath.  
> Thank you for reading The Afterlife Fic and for being patient in waiting for this final chapter. I'm very appreciative and hope you enjoy. xx

_“If you meant what you said to Harry, why not start now?”_

Louis stares ahead at the closed doors of the lift car, Marcus’ words replaying through his mind on a loop.

“I’ll fight for us!” Louis had shouted to Harry, when Harry was earlier stood in this very same car, Sam by his side to escort him to the New Resident Orientation. The doors were closing and Louis’ heart was in tatters, but his final words to Harry as he disappeared from Louis’ view for the very last time were that Louis would fight for them.

And then Harry was gone.

Marcus showed up at the moment when Louis was at his lowest, literally collapsed on the floor, his body wracked with the pain of his heartbreak, and Marcus pulled him into a hug, he spoke to Louis kindly, and then, before Louis was to take the lift to the ground floor so that he might make the sad walk back to his hotel, Marcus whispered those simple words into Louis’ ear and Louis was left utterly dumbfounded.

_“If you meant what you said to Harry, why not start now?”_

But what were those words even supposed to mean?

 _Of course, I’ll start fighting for Harry now_ , Louis thinks to himself. He promised Harry as much and he meant it with every fiber of his being.

But the thing is; Louis doesn’t have much of a plan as to _how_ he’s going to fight for Harry. The only strategy Louis has been able to come up with is that he will concentrate on Harry for however long he has left in this realm. He will repeat Harry’s name and visualize his beautiful soul mate and hopefully, when Louis closes his eyes and falls asleep and breathes his last breath of death, he will carry a piece of Harry with him when he transitions to his new life on Earth. He’s heard time and again that Returning Intakes lose all memory of the Afterlife when they are reborn into a new body and the thought makes him positively sick to his stomach. So Louis doesn’t allow himself to think of that fact for more than a second or two, the very idea causing his stomach to twist as an uneasy, queasy feeling settles over him. Instead, he silently prays to whomever is in charge of this universe business that they will show mercy on him and that he’ll somehow be reunited with Harry when his next life on Earth comes to an end.

But god. Louis would give anything to see Harry’s beautiful face one more time.

He just needs to keep thinking about him.

What more can he do?

_There has to be something more._

_This can’t be the end._

“Look up at the camera and wave and say ‘hello’ like you always do, Louis… and then don’t say another word.”

Ed’s voice snaps Louis’ out of his thoughts and he suddenly realizes that he’s been standing in this lift car for at least three minutes and the car hasn’t moved from its station on the forty-sixth floor.

Louis does as he’s told.

He raises his head and looks to the camera mounted in the upper corner of the lift, directly above the floor panel. Louis’ brow is furrowed in confusion and his voice is shaking with the trauma of being separated from Harry as he utters a simple salutation.

“Hello, Ed. G-good evening.”

“Good evening, Louis,” Ed replies, his voice ringing out through the lift’s speaker system. Louis just stares, unsure of what is happening. “You can stop looking at the camera now,” Ed adds, after several beats have past.

Louis immediately looks away from the shiny camera lens, once again directing his attention to the closed lift doors.

“This lift won’t be picking up any passengers on its way to the lobby, Louis,” Ed continues. “But it will be making one stop, on the fifteenth floor.” Louis starts to look at the camera in question, but then Ed clears his throat loudly and Louis once again averts his attention to the polished stainless steel doors in front of him. “The fifteenth floor is closed for renovation and all of the workers should be gone for the day. If one were to walk through the fifteenth floor at this hour, they would have to be very careful and very quick.”

Louis puzzles his brow, but Ed keeps speaking, his voice calm and even.

“Upon exiting the lift, a person could turn left and walk all the way to the end of the corridor and then turn left again and walk to the very end of _that_ corridor, and there, they’ll find a stairwell. If one were to follow those stairs all the way down to the main floor, they would happen upon an enclosed exit that leads to the Review Center’s Western Courtyard. It’s a lovely area, really. Beautiful flower gardens… park benches… It’s a very special and private place. I happen to take most of my breaks there and I leave the Center through the back entrance of that courtyard when I’m off work. In fact, I’m due to be off shift in just a few minutes.”

Louis’ mind is racing.

_Get off on the fifteenth floor?_

_What the fuck is even happening?_

Louis has no idea what will await him if he follows Ed’s directions and exits the lift early as directed. Marcus told Louis earlier that his name is on some sort of list and he suspects that if he doesn’t show up to his hotel on time there might be trouble. He lets out a sharp breath. Maybe Ed only wants to meet him in the courtyard so that he can personally escort Louis back to The Regency?

_But that can’t be right._

Louis remembers what Ed said to him the other day on the footie field: that if Louis was ever in a situation where he needed help, Ed would do everything in his power to give that help to him. Ed implied as much again this evening when Louis was earlier stood in the lift with Harry, on their way to hear their verdicts. Louis doesn’t know what Ed’s help entails, he doubts it will make any difference in his fate – he’s already been told his verdict is final – but he does know that he will welcome any assistance Ed is willing to give to him. Louis wants help, and he wants help now.

Louis runs his hands through his hair, trying to convey some sort of signal that he’s listening, that he’s paying very close attention to what Ed is saying. Ed continues speaking.

“Of course, one could also take the lift all the way to the lobby and immediately head back to their hotel, if they chose to do so. Intakes are expected _without exception_ to follow the course that has been determined for them by their Review Panels. It’s a very noble and sacred thing to embrace returning to Earth to begin a new life.” Ed draws in a heavy breath that reverberates through the speakers, his voice comforting when he softly addresses Louis directly. “Nobody would ever judge you for embracing your fate, Louis.”

Louis doesn’t much feel like being noble and he doesn’t want to participate in such a “sacred thing” as returning to Earth to begin a new life. He doesn’t want any part of becoming a new person at all and he certainly doesn’t want to “embrace his fate.” The only thing that Louis Tomlinson wants is to see Harry Styles’ face one more time, even if only to give him one last farewell kiss as he awaits the train that will take him to the next realm. He doesn’t know if Ed can help him do that. He doesn’t know anything at all, really.

The motors to the lift come to life just then and the car finally begins its slow descent to the main floor of the Center. Anticipation buzzes through Louis’ veins as he watches as the buttons on the digital display panel directly above the doors counts down each floor they pass. Before long, the panel is displaying the number 17… 16… _15_.

The lift stops on the fifteenth floor and the doors roll open.

Louis doesn’t think twice.

He immediately steps off, entering the corridor and turning left.

******

The wife sits in the passenger seat of the parked SUV, waiting patiently for her husband to retrieve her packed overnight from inside their home.

This is his second trip inside.

After the first run, he hopped into the driver’s seat and proudly announced that he’d double checked to make sure the stove was turned off, as the wife had been preparing beef stew when her water broke and her labor started.

Of course, the wife knew the burner was turned off; she shut it off herself. She also moved the stew pot onto the back patio to cool for several minutes while she went upstairs, cleaned up, and changed into fresh clothing, her previous garments soaked in amniotic fluid. She then returned to the kitchen, stored the pot of stew away in the refrigerator, and loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. She performed these little tasks while her husband frantically ran about the house searching for the car keys that he somehow managed to misplace when he’d went upstairs to collect her suitcase.

It wasn’t until they were both strapped into their seatbelts, the engine of their vehicle roaring, when the wife looked into the back seat and realized the husband hadn’t brought her overnight bag at all, but rather had grabbed his own gym bag.

He’s been back inside the house for five minutes now and honestly, the wife has absolutely no idea what he could possibly be doing. Her packed bag sits on the bench in the upstairs hallway, where it’s been resting for nearly two weeks. Her husband has walked by it at least one hundred times on his way to and from their bedroom.

Of course, for the past several days, the husband hasn’t been home much. The wife feels a flush of sadness when she considers all of the stress he’s been under. No wonder he brought out the wrong bag.

The front door swings open and her husband finally steps outside. The wife rolls her eyes and shakes her head, wondering how long it will take him to realize that he’s carrying his laptop case and not her overnight.

The husband is a smart man, he’s a chemical engineer after all, and he has an expert brain wired for formulas and equations. But clearly, he’s not thinking straight.

“Bless his heart,” the wife mumbles. She rolls down her window and shouts to him as he quickly scurries across their icy front walkway to their parked car. “Are my bear and fuzzy socks in that laptop bag? Because if not, it would probably be best if you go back inside and retrieve my actual suitcase.”

The husband freezes in his steps and looks down at the case he carries in his hand. “Bloody hell!” he shouts, smacking his forward and then turning on his heels to dash back into the house.

“It’s on the bench at the top of the landing… where it’s been for nearly two weeks,” she adds, under her breath. The wife shakes her head and smiles, her heart full with the love she feels for that dear man. But her smile begins to falter when she feels the slow burning pain of an impending contraction. It starts off dull and then gets stronger, radiating throughout her abdomen and then concentrating in her lower back. She takes a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth and then another, breathing through the pain until it dissipates and disappears completely. She looks at her wristwatch. Her contractions are sixteen minutes apart and they’ve really only just begun. She suspects she’ll have a bit of a wait before their baby arrives. She digs through her purse and retrieves her cell phone, quickly pulling up her _Favorites_ list and pressing the first number listed below her husband’s. It rings twice and then a female voice answers. “Mummy,” the wife excitedly says into the receiver. She chokes back tears, suddenly overtaken with the enormity of it all. “This is really happening! It’s time!”

 

******

The fifteenth floor of the Eastern Wing of the Review Center is dark: pitch black, actually. There is only a slight, orange glow emitted by the arrow buttons beside the doors to the individual lifts and when Louis takes a few steps away from the bank, those tiny wisps of light disappear into nothingness. The overhead lighting that runs along the ceiling of the corridor outside the lift is shut off and although the doors to many of the Review Rooms that Louis passes as he makes his way down the long hallway are either missing or are open, these rooms let in no natural light because none of these judicial spaces have windows.

If the darkness didn’t make things difficult enough, there are also construction materials _everywhere_ , further complicating Louis’ journey. Huge planks of plywood, oak beams, and sheets of drywall are placed in stacks all along the long corridor and because it’s so dark, these materials create a virtual obstacle course for Louis to navigate. Ladders and carts of tools also serve to obstruct Louis’ path, and so he stretches his arms out in front of him, carefully and quickly trying to feel his way to the end of the passage.

It’s a long trek.

As he weaves in and out of the building supplies, Louis remembers that during his morning Review session he was shocked by how far he had to walk when the Chief Justice sent him to the little break lounge at the end of the hallway while Marcus screened the PD5 clip that Ileana had managed to get approved to show in his Review. Louis’ stomach clenches when he thinks about the look on Marcus’ face when he later approached Louis in that seating area, the way Louis immediately knew that the clip was of something awful, and the terrible manner in which his fate was all but set in stone when Ileana was allowed to screen the scene of Louis rejecting Harry the night before.

 _Harry_.

If there is even the slightest chance that Louis can see Harry again, even for a minute, then this haphazard, blind journey through this ridiculous obstacle course will have been more than worth it.

He carefully continues onward.

Finally, after several minutes of scraping his hands on the ends of rough planks of wood and repeatedly bumping his hips and knees into various materials and tool carts, Louis reaches the end of the first hallway. He takes an immediate left and begins the second stretch.

After traveling several meters down the second corridor, Louis is starting to feel a little more confident and sure in his footing, so he picks up his pace. He notices a faint light near the end of the long passage and suspects that it’s emitted from the stairwell. Maybe the door to the stairs is open, or maybe it has a small window that lets the light in. All Louis knows for certain is that he needs to get to that light quickly so that he can make his way down the steps and into the Western Courtyard to meet Ed. Unfortunately, Louis is not watching his feet and he walks straight into a huge crate of marble floor tiles, knocking his shin hard against the heavy material and causing him to let out a loud, sharp cry in pain.

“Who’s there?” comes a voice from a dozen or so meters down the corridor. Louis feels a jolt of panic shoot through his body, immediately taking his mind off the throbbing ache that emanates throughout his shin. He then realizes that the dim light ahead is actually cast from one of the open Review Rooms and not from the stairwell as he originally thought. He sees a shadowy figure emerge from that very room and Louis slaps his hand over his mouth and quickly ducks behind a massive cart of tools, desperately hoping that the figure will return to his work without pursuing the matter of the unexpected intruder any further.

He’s not in luck.

“I said, ‘Who’s there’?” the voice repeats, this time the hint of agitation lacing his tone. “This floor is closed to everyone but authorized personnel. Construction has ended for the day and there should be nobody walking about.”

Louis draws in a deep breath. _Better to face this particular obstacle straight on_ , he reasons, lest the man behind the voice seek him out. If that happens, he might decide to interrogate Louis as to why an Intake is wandering about on a floor that is obviously under construction. Louis can’t risk such a scenario because it could very well result in him being escorted back to the lifts. And if he’s taken to the lifts, he’ll surely soon end up back in his hotel room without a hope of ever seeing Harry’s beautiful face again.

 _I can’t let that happen_.

He takes another calming breath.

 _Play it cool, Tommo_.

“Hey! Sorry, mate!” Louis answers. He stands fully upright and starts to walk toward the voice, the dim light ahead illuminating his path just enough so that he can avoid the stacks of building supplies and other items strewn about without getting further injured. Louis knows that he needs to come up with a good excuse as to why he’s on this particular floor after hours, but for some reason, he can’t formulate a proper lie, so he decides on an abbreviated version of the truth.

“I was feeling a bit… queasy… in the lift,” Louis says and his words _are_ technically honest. The man at the end of the hall certainly doesn’t need to know that the reason Louis was feeling queasy was because he had just been separated from his soul mate and that he’s being sent back to Earth. He takes another calming breath, his voice gaining confidence as he continues to walk in the direction of the shadowy figure that called out to him. “I got off on this floor with the intention of taking the stairwell down to the main level. I wanted to walk and stretch my legs.”

His words are true. He _was_ planning on going to the main level of the building and he _had_ wanted to walk, after all.

The man who comprises the figure slowly comes into view, his body now illuminated by the light cast from the open Review Room. He’s of slim build, dressed in dark blue jeans, a crisp white button-up, and brown corduroy suit jacket. His heavy steel-toe work boots and hardhat are in utter contrast to his otherwise fashionable attire and as Louis gets closer still and the light emitted from the room gets brighter, he notices that the man has salt and pepper hair that peeks out beneath his protective headgear and that he is quite handsome. Louis also realizes the man looks strangely familiar. But at first, he can’t place him.

The man narrows his eyes as Louis approaches, sizing him up, but then his mouth falls open in surprise and he breaks into a friendly grin.

“Louis! How are you?” the man asks and Louis stares at him stupidly because _how do I know him?_

The man extends his hand and Louis automatically shakes it.

“Erm,” Louis mutters. “Hello.” But his salutation comes off as more of a question and the man smiles and pats him on the shoulder knowingly.

“You’re not quite sure how you know me, are you?”

Louis is just about to agree when suddenly it hits him.

“You were with Beatrice the other night in the park,” Louis answers, his voice breathy as the realization and memory wash over him.

He and Harry were sitting on the park bench after the Elvis concert, on the verge of sharing their very first kiss, when Beatrice happened upon them and called out to Louis, interrupting him and Harry before they were able to seal the deal. Beatrice was not alone that evening. She was with the man who stands before Louis now.

“Indeed I was,” the man replies. “My name is Jeremy, Louis.”

“Yes! Yes! That’s right,” Louis agrees, as if the man somehow needs Louis to confirm his identity for him. “You’re Beatrice’s partner!” Louis exclaims, and he doesn’t know where the next question comes from, but he blurts it out without really thinking it through. “Are you and Beatrice soul mates?”

Jeremy smiles and nods his head. “We are, Louis.”

“Sorry,” Louis mumbles, putting his hands up in apology. “That was really personal. I’m not even sure why I asked you that question.”

 _Harry_.

“It’s quite all right, Louis. Beatrice and I have been together for nearly two hundred years. I’m proud to have her as my soul mate. I’m so lucky,” he says, his voice reverent at the end.

“She’s a lovely person,” Louis agrees.

“She is, and she certainly thinks very highly of you.” Jeremy offers and then he goes quiet, studying Louis for a few seconds. Louis stands there self-consciously, silently praying that Jeremy won’t impede his trek to the stairwell. Jeremy rubs his chin and his voice is measured when he says, “You have a soul mate too, Louis. Beatrice and I knew the moment we saw you and him together in the park the other night.”

“I do,” Louis answers softly and his heart clenches painfully in his chest at the thought of Harry. God. He just wants to go to him so much. “His name is ‘Harry’.”

“I remember,” Jeremy comments. “Where is Harry now?”

Louis closes his eyes for a moment and breathes out a heavy sigh, unsure if he should reveal to Jeremy the truth, unsure if he can trust him, even. But then he remembers that Beatrice was the very first person to offer Louis help should the need arise, and he considers that since Jeremy is Beatrice’s soul mate, he may be willing to do the same. Plus, he positively doesn’t want to lie to him.

“Harry is at the New Resident Orientation, Jeremy… and then he’s moving on to the next realm.”

“Today was Harry’s Verdict Day,” Jeremy says, and it’s not a question.

“It was,” Louis answers. He bunches his hands into tight fists and looks down at the floor before lifting his head to look at Jeremy directly. “It was also mine.”

Jeremy lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head.

“I see.”

Once again, Jeremy looks Louis over. He stares at him intently and Louis has a feeling of déjà vu: Jeremy’s concentrated look reminding him of the look that Marcus gave to Louis before his verdict was read.

“You were ordered to return to Earth,” Jeremy quietly declares.

Louis nods his head sadly in agreement.

“I was.”

“I’m so sorry, Louis,” Jeremy offers, his voice sincere. “From everything that Beatrice told me about you, it doesn’t seem possible that you’re not advancing.”

“What did Beatrice say about me?” Louis asks.

“She told me that you were very smart and that she had a good feeling about you. Besides,” he absently mutters, under his breath, “it’s a very rare thing for soul mates to be separated.”

Louis’ feels his heart sink at that proclamation.

“Louis, why are you on this floor?” Jeremy asks, abruptly changing the subject. “The lifts are programmed to bypass the fifteenth floor while it’s under renovation. The construction crew takes a private lift that isn’t even accessible to the public. In fact, the only reason that _I’m_ allowed on this floor at this hour is because I’m the architect of these renovations and I stop by every evening to make sure that the work is progressing on schedule and in accordance to my design plan. Intakes aren’t permitted to enter this floor at all and they certainly have no feasible access to it from the lifts. Plus, the door to the fifteenth floor stairwell is locked from the inside.”

Louis bites his bottom lip, trying to formulate a proper answer, but then he realizes he just needs to go with the truth. But first, he has to make sure of something.

“I don’t want anyone to get in any trouble,” Louis says, his eyes locking with Jeremy’s. “My friends are very important to me.”

“Louis, I promise you, I’m not out to cause you or your friends any harm. I just need to know why you’re here.” Jeremy furrows his brows and tilts his head adding, “But spare me any specifics. Just give me the general details. I have a feeling the less I know about all of this, the better off we’ll all be.”

“I want to see Harry again,” Louis blurts out, and Jeremy’s face immediately softens. “He’s moving ahead to the next realm and I’m getting sent back to Earth and I can hardly bear it. I just want to tell him that I love him one last time and I don’t even know if that’s possible, but I have a friend who arranged for me – ”

Louis stops speaking mid-sentence when Jeremy shakes his head and raises his hands to silence him. “Spare me the specifics, Louis,” he reiterates.

“I… I don’t even know what I’m doing,” Louis amends, and the fact of the matter is he doesn’t. He has no idea what will happen if he meets Ed in the courtyard, or how exactly Ed might help him. The only thing he’s certain of is that he wants to find out.

Jeremy looks him over one more time and then nods his head.

“Come with me.”

Louis feels another wave of panic as Jeremy grips Louis’ elbow and then takes a step, making to pull Louis along with him.

Louis’ feet remain firmly planted in place.

“W-where are we going?” Louis asks, terrified Jeremy is going to lead him back to the lift.

“It’s very dangerous for an Intake to be on this floor, Louis,” Jeremy advises. “There are heavy materials: stone, glass, and sharp objects, everywhere. You may be dead, but you’ll still feel the pain should you fall or have an accident.” Given the dull ache that is still radiating throughout his shin, Louis knows this to be true. “I’ll help you to the stairwell.”

Louis blows a heavy sigh of relief and then allows himself to be led by Jeremy down the long, dark corridor.

“Jeremy, I can’t thank you en –” Louis starts, but Jeremy stops in his tracks and once again lifts a hand to silence him.

“Best we don’t talk about this,” Jeremy says as they continue onward. Louis follows along, the two men weaving in and out of stacks of lumber, buckets of nails, and other odds and ends that are strewn about their path. “Beatrice would have my head if I didn’t help you,” Jeremy mutters under his breath, but Louis hears him quite clearly.

 

******

“How are you feeling, love?” the husband asks.

The wife doesn’t answer at first, instead, letting out a long, slow breath as she silently counts down her contraction. She stares at the brightly colored teddy bear that sits at the foot of her bed, trying to focus on the object, as opposed to the radiating pain that is especially intense in her lower back. Finally, after several more beats have passed, the pain starts to ease and she closes her eyes for a moment in relief. This contraction lasted for thirty-two seconds from beginning to end, starting thirteen minutes after the last. She breathes in sharply.

“I want Dr. Pomatter,” the wife answers, her voice tinged with frustration, her bottom lip jutted out in annoyance.

The on-duty nurse, Peggy, walks over to the wife’s bed and pats her forearm gently. “I told you, she’s with another patient, dear. She’ll be in as soon as that patient delivers. But the good news is that her partner, Dr. Cooper will be arriving shortly and he’ll pop in to see you straight away. Do you know that you’re the third patient from their practice to go into labor this evening?” She shakes her head and smiles brightly, adding, “Must be a full moon… we’ve had seven babies delivered since I’ve come on shift!”

The wife offers Peggy a weak smile in response. She does _not_ want to see Dr. Cooper. He may be Dr. Pomatter’s medical partner, but he lacks all of the bedside manner that comes so easily to her. The wife has been a patient of Cooper, Rice, and Pomatter since she was in Uni, but Dr. Pomatter has always been her primary provider and her absolute favorite of the three. She saw Dr. Rice once when Dr. Pomatter was on holiday, and she was nice enough, but Dr. Cooper… well, Dr. Cooper is a whole different ball of wax. On three separate occasions the wife showed up for a regularly scheduled appointment – twice for an annual PAP smear and once to have her IUD removed so that she and her husband could start trying for a baby – only to have no other choice but to see Dr. Cooper because Dr. Pomatter was assisting a patient in labor. It’s never fun going to the gynecologist, but Dr. Cooper made the experience even less pleasant than usual.

“He’s completely lacking in personality,” the wife grumbles to her husband after the nurse has checked her vital signs and then exited the room with a promise to return shortly to set up to the fetal heart rate monitor. “He’s so cold and detached.” She shrugs her shoulders, adding, “He makes me uncomfortable.”

“Well, hopefully whoever is having their baby right now will hurry it along so that you can get your favorite back, yeah? I know you like Dr. Pomatter best, but there is nothing we can do if she’s tending to another patient.”

“How very dare she?” the wife pouts. The husband can’t help but grin. He leans in and kisses her soundly on the lips.

“It’s going to be fine, Jess.” He takes both of her hands in his own, holding on to them carefully so as not to nudge the IV that is inserted into the top of her left hand and held in place with thick white tape. He lowers his voice and drops his head, gently rubbing her palms with his thumbs. “I know you’re a couple of weeks early, but this time we’ve made it all the way to the finish line, love. We’re _actually_ going to be parents.”

The wife feels the familiar combination of anticipation and sorrow wash over her as she considers the impending birth of her child, the heavy shadow of previous heartbreaks and the worry that goes along with them never fully blotted from her mind.

“We’ve made it to the finish line,” she answers, repeating her husband’s words.

Despite the prospect of dealing with Dr. Cooper and his horrible bedside manner, she pushes her worry aside and lets herself be fully happy. She says the words again, allowing the joy to wash over her as she giggles, “We’ve made it to the finish line.”

“That’s more like it!” the husband happily cheers. He holds his arms up in a silent rallying cry and he’s being so upbeat, sweet, and utterly supportive that the wife suddenly flushes with guilt when she remembers all that he’s been going through.

“I’m being so silly,” she says, ducking her head shyly for a moment before raising it so she might meet her husband’s gaze. “You’ve endured an unimaginable week and here I am feeling sorry for myself. I apologize, love.”

“It’s okay, Jess,” the husband soothes. He draws in a heavy breath and then lets out a soft sigh. “This is a happy time and I don’t want to think of any of that heartache right now. The only thing that matters to me in this moment is you and the little bean in your belly that will soon be here to turn our whole world upside down in the best possible way. We’ll put the rest away for another day, yeah?”

The wife smiles and nods her head in agreement. She strokes her palm along the husband’s cheek and he turns into it, kissing her hand before leaning forward and laying another kiss on her covered belly.

“I can’t wait to meet you, little one,” he whispers.

******

“This is where I leave you, Louis,” Jeremy says as they approach the door to the stairwell. He gently grasps Louis on the shoulders and looks him squarely in the eyes. “I truly wish you the best of luck.”

“Thanks, mate,” Louis answers. He instinctively reaches out and the two men share a brief hug and just as Louis is about to pull away, Jeremy leans in and quietly whispers, “I believe in you, Louis.”

He then turns on his heels and disappears down the corridor without another word.

Louis opens the heavy door to the stairwell and steps inside. The space is contained, but bright. The stairwell is windowless, but a series of recessed niches are spaced along the outer wall leading down each set of double-back stairs that bridge the distance between floors, and those niches each contain brass wall sconces that emit a warm light that illuminates the entire wall space from top to bottom. The walls are painted a warm sand color and are covered in carefully placed, brightly colored paintings including pieces from the Impressionist, Expressionist, Cubist, Constructivist, Pop Art, and Postmodern eras. The stairs themselves are comprised of polished black granite, the top of each riser boasting a nonskid, inlaid runner that ensures sure footing for those who traverse their surfaces. The stair railing is comprised of ornate, cast iron balusters topped with polished oak handrails.

This vertical space that expands from the ground floor to the very top floor of the Review Center is by far the most elegant stairwell that Louis has ever encountered, but he barely pauses to take it all in because really, he wants nothing more than to get to the bottom of the seemingly endless flights that stretch out below him so that he can finally meet up with Ed.

He grabs onto the handrail at the top of the first flight of steps, his feet moving rapidly as he makes his descent, his heart beating wildly in his chest at the prospect of seeing Harry again.

 _Don’t get your hopes up_.

Louis nearly trips at the realization that he has no idea why Ed wants to meet him in the courtyard. He knows he’s being presumptuous to think that it has anything to do with seeing Harry at all. Hell, for all Louis knows, Ed might just want to give Louis a few pointers on his transition back to Earth, or maybe Ed is going to offer to help him when Louis again arrives in Judgment City at the end of his next life. And what if Louis doesn’t even come back to Judgment City UK? What if he is born again in America, or China, or some place far enough away that he’ll be sent to a different Judgment City altogether? If that happens, Harry will just be waiting at Intake with no hope of ever seeing Louis again, and with no way of even knowing that Louis is not coming back.

“Fucking hell. Shut your brain, Tommo!” Louis mutters out loud.

Seriously. He’s got to get it together and get to that courtyard. He’ll find out why Ed wants to meet him and what, if any, help he has to offer, soon enough.

Louis navigates the first four or five flights of stairs relatively quickly, his movements fast and his pace steady. But the fact of the matter is he’s dealing with a lot of steps.

Each flight of stairs is comprised of twenty-six steps and there are two flights of stairs for each floor. In total, Louis has to descend seven hundred and eighty stairs to reach the ground floor and while going down is certainly easier than climbing up them, he nonetheless finds himself beginning to tire before he’s even made it to the halfway point. At the top of each landing there is a heavy wooden and brass door that leads to the individual floor, and mounted on each door are large, wrought iron numerals that indicate the floor number. By the time Louis approaches the seventh floor, he’s breathing heavily, the jog down the steps elevating his heart rate and causing him to break out in a thin sheen of sweat.

Two more floors and one hundred and four steps later, Louis is starting to become acutely aware of the pain in his left shin where he slammed it against the stack of marble tiles and he’s also more than a little bit winded. He stops on the landing, just for a minute to catch his breath, and as he does so, he pulls up his tupa skirt to assess the injury to his leg.

Louis is positively mortified by the bruise he sees blooming on his skin. It’s dark purple in color and encompasses several inches of the front of his shin, the center of the bruise giving way to a patch of swollen and raw braised flesh, with a deep gash running horizontally through the middle. Louis had no idea he’d hurt his leg so badly. He reaches down and carefully runs his fingertip over the injury, the slight touch sending another dull throb of pain through the already tender area. He rotates his foot, carefully stretching out the muscles in his calf and then drops his tupa skirt, noticing the tear in the fabric of the garment, directly above his injury. The ripped material is stained with blood, its outer edges turning a rust color as it dries, its center still damp and a bright red hue.

He continues on.

Finally, after what seems like ages have passed, Louis reaches the final flight of stairs, an illuminated _EXIT_ sign hanging above the door at the bottom of the landing. Louis does not slow when he steps foot on the very bottom step: the seven hundred and eightieth step he’s descended. Instead, he practically leaps off the riser, taking two wide strides across the main landing and pulling the heavy door that serves as egress and exit for the stairwell open. Once he passes through this door, he enters a small, enclosed space featuring glass walls and all-weather carpeting. On the far wall is a set of double doors that lead to the Western Courtyard, a brass sign that hangs over the doors indicating as much. Louis takes a deep breath and straightens his tupa as he runs his fingers through his fringe.

_Don’t draw attention to yourself, Tommo._

He steps out of the Review Center and into the outdoor space, casually surveying his surroundings as he searches for his friend.

 

******

“All right, dear, it’s time to get you hooked up to the fetal heart rate monitor,” Peggy says. She approaches the wife’s bedside and immediately activates the bed’s adjustment controls, lowering the head of the bed so that the wife is lying almost completely supine. She turns back towards the machine that is positioned directly to the right side of the bed and lifts two wide elastic belts that are connected to the device via thin power cords, from its surface.

“This first belt will be connected to a transducer to monitor the frequency and duration of your contractions,” Peggy offers, holding the strip of white, stretchy material and two small electronic devices in front of the wife for her to examine. “While this second belt is connected to an ultrasound Doppler to monitor your baby’s heartbeat.”

The wife looks over at her husband and grins, because _this is actually happening_. She’s actually in labor with their first child, a day she feared would never come. The husband looks back at her and smiles broadly.

“Finish line,” he mouths, and the wife blows him a kiss.

Peggy pulls back the wife’s top sheet and blanket, discreetly lifting her hospital gown and sliding the elastic belts beneath her back. She works quickly, her movements sure as she applies the transducer and Doppler to the wife’s belly, a dollop of gel used to slide the Doppler about until the “whoosh, whoosh, whoosh,” of the baby’s heartbeat sounds loud and clear through the machine’s external speaker. The wife can’t help but gasp a soft little cry at the sound, her excitement at the impending birth of her child growing by the minute. Her husband jumps up from his seat and rushes over to her bedside, taking her hand in both of his own.

“We’ve heard the heartbeat nearly every doctor visit since the beginning, Jess,” he comments, his voice soft and his eyes moist. “Yet, every time, it’s a miracle.”

“Oh, love,” the wife replies quietly, too choked up to say anything else.

Peggy goes about her work, making final adjustments to the belts that secure the transducer and Doppler in place until she’s sure everything is properly connected, and then she helps adjust the wife’s hospital gown before tucking the covers around her belly and then raising the head of the bed so that the wife is once again seated mostly upright. She then goes and fiddles with the actual monitor, turning down the volume so that the baby’s heartbeat can be heard, but is only quiet background noise in the room. Once she’s sure everything is connected and calibrated correctly, she calls the husband over to the machine and shows him the graph strip that displays the actual readout of the baby’s heartbeat. He immediately begins asking her a series of questions pertaining to every little aspect of the machine’s operation until finally the wife interrupts him and tells him to give poor Peggy a break.

“I just like to know what we we’re dealing with, Jess,” he responds.

“What we’re dealing with is a first-time father,” Peggy teases and the husband shrugs his shoulders in agreement.

Just then, another nurse enters the room. She’s a pretty redheaded girl who looks barely old enough to drive a motor vehicle, much less hold a nursing degree, but her hospital badge reads, “Rose Finnigan, RN,” the “RN” proving that despite her youthful appearance, she has the credentials to work on the maternity ward. In her hand, Rose carries a plastic plate on which sit four of the most decadent looking cupcakes the wife has ever seen.

“Rose! What have you got there?” Peggy asks, even though it’s obvious what the other nurse is carrying.

“Another one of Dr. Pomatter’s patients brought in a ‘thank you’ gift,” Rose replies. “I swear, there must be five dozen cupcakes in the lounge. Her patients are absolutely crazy about her, always bringing in sweets. Anyway, there’s more than enough for the staff, so we thought we’d pass them out to the patients and their families.” She looks over at the wife and winks, “Spread a little love to the new mummies and daddies.”

“Can she even eat a cupcake?” the husband asks, referring to his wife. “I don’t want her to get sick.”

The wife just shakes her head and tries to contain her smile, his concern a bit over-the-top at this early stage of her labor, but nonetheless endearing.

“I think one cupcake will be all right,” Peggy answers, but the wife holds up her hand, declining the offer when Rose presents the plate of sweets. The very last thing she’s feeling is the desire to eat anything. In fact, she has no appetite at all at the moment and she’s also quite certain another contraction will be coming about soon and the last thing she wants is to have a mouthful of cupcake while she’s going through it. Her husband on the other hand, happily accepts the treat.

“Rose is such a pretty name,” the wife comments, the name always reminding her of her favorite old movie.

“Thank you, dear,” Rose replies, as if she’s speaking to someone years younger, as opposed to a woman who at the very least, is several years her senior. “My mum was a bit obsessed with the film, _Titanic_ when she was pregnant with me. If I’d been a boy, I would have been named ‘Jack’.”

“That’s my favorite movie, too!” the wife enthuses. “It’s a perfect love story.”

“It’s a terrible love story,” the husband interjects and the wife suppresses a giggle, because she finds her husband’s longstanding objection to the film to be utterly adorable.

“Terrible!” Peggy huffs, obviously affronted. “I’ve never heard anyone say that about _Titanic_!”

“I’m not much of a fan myself,” Rose offers, agreeing with the husband. “Quite frankly, I’ll never understand all of the fuss over that movie. I find it sort of boring, actually.”

The wife absolutely does not miss the opportunity to quote the film, while simultaneously setting Rose straight, replying, “You can be blasé about some things, Rose. But not about _Titanic_!”

Peggy immediately barks a loud laugh, giving the wife a high-five. Rose shakes her head and lets out a long suffering sigh, commenting, “Been hearing _Titanic_ quotes my whole life; that one certainly doesn’t get old.”

“Sorry,” the wife laughs. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Peggy looks to the husband then, thumbing to Rose as she comments, “I never thought I’d meet anyone outside of Rose here, who doesn’t like that movie. What’s so bad about _Titanic_?”

“Oh, don’t get him started,” the wife laughs. She reaches out and grabs the husband’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “I make him watch it now and again. First time we watched was on our third or fourth date and he made it through the entire movie.” She then turns her attention back to her husband, “But you were a bit teary at the end, weren’t you, love?”

“It has a stupid ending,” the husband pouts. The wife ignores him and continues speaking.

“Now, whenever I put it on, he’ll watch until the point where Rose jumps from the lifeboat back into the ship to reunite with Jack, and then he makes an excuse about needing to check on something around the house, or having to go make an important business call, and he doesn’t come back until Céline Dion is singing out the closing credits.”

“Is that right?” Peggy asks, raising an eyebrow.

“What kind of love story separates the lovers?” the husband huffs. “A love story with a terrible ending, that’s what!”

“Well, to be fair,” Rose concedes, “Jack dying was pretty true to the events of the real sinking of the Titanic. Not a lot of men survived that one and that door Rose was floating on wasn’t about to hold the both of them.”

“Jack should have found another door to climb onto then,” the husband rebuts, and the wife looks at Peggy, the two women grinning at his obvious frustration. “If he’d been a bit more resourceful, they could have stayed together. Instead, he just gives up and dies and it breaks Rose’s heart and that’s… Well, excuse my language, but that’s bullshit.”

Now, all three women are staring at the husband, completely amused at his passionate anger towards a decades-old film.

“But Rose and Jack are reunited in the end,” Peggy reasons. “When Rose dies, she goes back to the ship and Jack is waiting for her, right at the top of that beautiful, Grand Staircase.” She lets out a wistful sigh. “It’s so romantic.”

“It is _not_ romantic!” the husband disagrees. “Rose lived an entire life without Jack! They should have been together, not Rose and some other man that she met while Jack was disintegrating at the bottom of the ocean! She married another man, had children with that man, and eventually, she even had a granddaughter that she dragged around with her everywhere she went, including to some research ship in the middle of the Atlantic.”

“What’s your point?” Peggy interjects. She doesn’t try to hide her annoyance. She stands facing the husband with her hands on her hips, clearly bent on defending the film.

“My point,” the husband declares, “is that Rose loved _someone else_ and she built a legacy of generations with that person, and that person was not Jack! Then, she dies peacefully in her sleep without a care in the world and goes back to that sunken ship like nothing ever happened, leaving the dead husband in the dust and Jack all too willing to take her back. It’s… it’s bloody wrong, I tell you!”

“I told you not to get him started,” the wife mumbles to Peggy. Rose just stands there chuckling, but Peggy seems to be enjoying this little debate, so she continues on.

“But Jack was her true love! They were… they were soul mates,” Peggy argues.

“Soul mates, schmoul mates,” the husband rebuts. “If their love was so sacred, Jack would have done everything in his power for them to stay together. He would have balanced on that door on all fours if he had to, and if that didn’t work, he would have dragged Rose into the ocean so she could have froze to death with him!”

“Darling!” the wife exclaims, letting out a shocked laugh at his morbid declaration. “You can’t say such things!”

“I actually agree with him,” Rose replies, shrugging her shoulders. “Jack gave up far too quickly, if you ask me.”

“Well, I think Jack is a hero,” Peggy interjects. “He relinquished himself to his fate and eventually, he was rewarded.”

“Bullocks!” the husband responds. “He should have fought harder for Rose!”

The husband and Peggy continue to bicker back and forth but the wife tunes them out, the slow burning in her lower abdomen and ache that is sprawling across her back indicating that another contraction is starting. Rose is paying attention to her, though. She nods at the wife and then checks the transducer readout on the fetal heart rate monitor while the wife looks at the teddy bear that sits at the foot of her bed and counts the seconds in her head. The pain starts to get more intense, her back throbbing and her belly cramping like it’s being compressed in a vice. She draws in a deep breath and then blows it out slowly, her husband and Peggy still debating _Titanic_ , completely oblivious to the wife’s state, and the wife is actually glad of it. Her husband is nervous enough about the birth of their child and besides, he’s endured the sort of heartache in the past week that would render even the most upbeat person completely devastated and broken. The only reason he went back to work so soon was because he needed a diversion from his own suffering and yet, he’s managed to put on a continuous warm and upbeat front for his wife because he knows she’s suffering too and is also carrying the burden of past losses heavy in her heart. She feels so incredibly lucky to have him and she’s glad that her husband has something so silly to take his mind of things, even if only for a few minutes.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity but in reality has only been about twenty-eight seconds, the pain begins to dissipate and then fades away completely.

Rose walks back to the wife’s bedside. “That was a good one,” she whispers. “How long did you count?”

“Around thirty-four seconds,” the wife answers. Rose smiles and nods in agreement.

“That’s exactly what it shows on the monitor. You’re doing great, dear. Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?” The wife shakes her head but Rose continues, pointing to the plate of cupcakes that sits on the rolling table beside the bed. “Are you sure you don’t want a cupcake?” She leans forward and says, “If you’re at all hungry, you should eat now, because as soon as your doctor gets in, she’ll probably limit you to ice chips.”

“I’m good,” the wife answers. “Maybe just a glass of water.”

“I’ll get it straight away.”

******

The Western Courtyard of the Review Center is absolutely breathtaking. It’s a sizable outdoor space abundant with flowers, trees, and beautiful scenery, not unlike the park where Louis and Harry like to take their lunch. Running the perimeter of the courtyard is a brick foot-pavement, the inner side of which is lined with colorful rose, hydrangea and bougainvillea bushes. The pavement branches off in the center of each pathway, with four, secondary pavements leading into the courtyard itself, a stone arch installed at the entrance of each and covered in wisteria, with thick vines crawling up the vertical imposts and purple flowers hanging from the soffits. Lilac bushes provide the centerpieces for triangular flowerbeds that are planted in each corner of the courtyard, and small crape myrtle trees are spaced throughout the landscape. The grounds are comprised of lush grass so green and fragrant that Louis can’t help but think of how amazing it would be to lay Harry out right there in the warm glow of the setting sun and kiss him lazily for the rest of eternity. He closes his eyes and feels a wave of sorrow wash over him, his longing to see Harry again overwhelming.

“Louis, mate! Over here!” Ed’s voice calls out, interrupting Louis’ thoughts, not for the first time this evening.

Louis looks about, trying to spot his friend. He’s not on any of the park benches that are spaced a few meters in from the various pathways, and he’s not by the gazebo that sits in the very center of this garden space, either.

“Ed?” Louis responds, as he continues to survey his surroundings, his voice barely above a whisper. “Where are you?”

Just then, he spots Ed jogging toward him from one of the side paths to his right. He’s wearing loose fitting denims, a bright red plaid shirt and Chuck Taylor sneakers, hardly the posh cream-colored suit that he wears when he works mornings in the lobby of the Review Center assisting Intakes. Once Ed reaches him, he immediately pulls Louis into a tight hug, whispering, “Come with me, I’ve got us a picnic bench all set up.”

Louis follows Ed without question.

They walk back in the direction Ed came from and Ed leads Louis off the foot-pavement and across the lawn to a massive cherry tree, its branches covered in brightly colored bunches of pink flowers, its trunk encircled by a pretty patch of fragrant stargazers. Ed walks under the tree and because it’s so perfectly blended with the landscape and surrounding flora, Louis almost misses it: a pale pink picnic table that rests in the thick grass and is all but camouflaged by the hanging branches and blooms.

“Have a seat,” Ed says and Louis immediately does as he’s told, sitting directly across from Ed at the end of the bench. On the table in front of Ed sits a large water bottle and an even larger disposable coffee cup. The cup is massive. It looks to be a size up from the _Venti_ Starbucks cups that Louis sometimes purchased on mornings when he knew he was in for a particularly long and hectic day at the firm. Louis leans back on his bench seat, the smell of Resident coffee oozing from the steam vent on the lid of the cup and invading his nostrils with its noxious odor. Louis would recognize that stench anywhere. Mitchell served Donald Resident coffee to try to help sober him up when he got drunk the night before during his dinner with Louis. Just the thought of Ed drinking that sludge makes Louis’ stomach churn.

“I’m so glad to see you made it here okay,” Ed continues. “You didn’t run into any trouble did you?”

“I…” Louis starts. But then he remembers how Jeremy told him that the less information he knew about Louis’ activities the better, and Louis suspects the same thing might go for Ed. “No,” Louis answers. He’s being completely honest when he adds, “Other than knocking my shin against some tile, I really didn’t encounter any trouble at all.”

“Good,” Ed replies. “I suppose you’re wondering why I…” he clears his throat and looks around suspiciously, his voice a bit lower when he starts again. “I suppose you’re wondering why I suggested you visit the Western Courtyard today.”

“I am,” Louis answers. “But I’m guessing you know that I failed my Review?”

“I do,” Ed replies. He shakes his head and blows out a frustrated breath. “They got it bloody wrong, Tommo. The Justices are some of the smartest, most caring people in the universe, but I absolutely believe they got your verdict wrong.” Louis raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Why do you say that?” Louis asks, genuinely curious. “I mean… I know you’re my friend and on my side, but you weren’t in on my Review sessions, Ed. You’ve no idea how brutal they were.”

“I’ve been here a very long time, Louis,” Ed replies simply. “I’ve met thousands of Intakes over the years and I’m quite a good judge of character. Besides, Marcus Diamond represents you, Louis. He never takes on a case unless he absolutely believes in his client. That’s good enough for me.”

Louis looks down at the pink tabletop, quietly offering, “Marcus told me when we first met that I was ‘right on the cusp’, but I assumed what that meant was that I stood just as much of a chance of getting sent back to Earth as I did of advancing.”

“In a way, it does,” Ed agrees. He rubs his hand along his jaw, searching for the right words. “But I know Marcus, Louis. He chooses his cases very carefully. He takes one day off a week following the end of a Review, and the next day he starts all over again, reading through hundreds of files and only choosing one Intake from the lot to represent. He picks clients that he knows may face a difficult Review, but that he fully believes should move forward. He told me once that those are the clients that are the most important to him. Said it’s a tragedy for an Intake who could contribute to the universe and is ready to advance to get sent back to Earth because they don’t have counsel properly prepared to adequately fight for them.”

Louis swallows thickly. Marcus always told Louis he believed in him. To hear those words come from another person just reiterates to Louis how lucky he was to have had Marcus on his side.

“But honestly, Louis,” Ed continues, “we really don’t have time to be discussing Marcus.”

“Right, right,” Louis agrees.

“As I said, I’m a good judge of character, Louis, and I believe you should have passed your Review. But that having been said, I also trust the Review process and even though I think you’re ready to advance in the universe, I would never interfere in your case like I’m about to, if it weren’t for one thing.”

“What thing is that?” Louis asks. He feels butterflies fluttering about in his belly at the connotation behind Ed’s words. _Interfere_. Ed is going to interfere in Louis’ case and maybe he can help him in some small way. God. He just wants to see Harry’s face again.

“You have a soul mate, Louis,” Ed answers, leaning forward to emphasize his point. “I knew it the minute I saw you and Harry on the pitch together, which is why I offered my help after the footie match. There are those people who meet their soul mate on Earth, but that’s a very rare occurrence. Even rarer still is to meet one’s soul mate as an Intake. The universe works in mysterious ways, Louis. But it’s a kind and loving place and it typically doesn’t bring soul mates together until they’ve both safely advanced to Resident status.”

“Is that why every Resident who has seen Harry and me together has looked at us like we were some kind of… I can’t even put my finger on the right word.”

“Anomaly?” Ed offers.

“Yes! Anomaly! Practically every Resident we’ve met has sized us up and down and kind of just… studied us like they don’t know what to make of us.”

“Because you and Harry _are_ an anomaly, Louis. In fact, I only know of one other pair of soul mates who met as Intakes and that, sadly didn’t work out so well.”

“Donald,” Louis says softly, and it’s not a question. Ed’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“You know about Donald?” he asks, his voice shocked.

“I do. We had dinner last night and Donald got a bit pissed and told me all about his soul mate, Jane. I felt so terrible for him, Ed. He was so brokenhearted and now Harry is going to suffer the same fate and it… it just hurts so much to think of him longing for me the way that Donald longs for his lost soul mate.”

Louis feels his eyes well with tears and he can’t control them: one, two, three quickly rolling down his cheeks.

“I’d already been here a long while when I met Donald and Jane,” Ed responds. “I knew they were soul mates from the start, but I was also very worried. Donald was staying at The Hightower. It’s since been torn down and was replaced by The Ambassador during the early 1920s. But it was the equivalent of The Ambassador; its guests were those who lived lives of such merit and bravery that they were all but assured advancement.”

Louis feels a flush of warmth thinking about his sweet, brave boy and how he gave up his posh accommodations at The Ambassador to stay with Louis in his very nicely appointed, but decidedly less grand, suite.

_“Wherever you are Louis, that’s my home.”_

“Jane was staying at the Knight’s Arms,” Ed continues, interrupting Louis’ thoughts. “All the accommodations in Judgment City are wonderful, Louis, and anyone can be sent back to Earth or advance, regardless of where they stay. But there is a certain… hierarchy to the accommodations.” He clears his throat. “Let’s just say, it wasn’t the best sign that Jane was staying at one of the larger, less-distinguished establishments.”

“Shit,” Louis mumbles.

“I know,” Ed sighs. “I never witnessed heartache so raw and painful as Donald’s after Jane was sent back. We all tried to comfort him as best we could, but he was positively broken. I vowed right then and there that if I ever encountered a similar situation I would do everything in my power to help those involved. You and Harry were the first Intakes who were also soul mates that I’ve met since Donald and Jane, so I decided to keep an eye on you both. The love of a soul mate is very special, Louis, and that’s why I offered my help to you that day out at Shepherdshire.”

“What kind of help can you give me, Ed?” Louis asks. He’s so nervous, but he’s also feeling a bit hopeful like he was when Harry promised him that he would do everything in his power to find Louis after his next life comes to an end. Any help Ed can offer Louis, he’ll gladly embrace.

“I don’t know, really. I suppose it’s up to you if you want my help. I know that – ”

“I’ll accept any help you can offer, Ed,” Louis interrupts. “I just want to see Harry again, so badly. Even just to hold him one last time and kiss him goodbye.”

Ed lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head, rubbing his fingers across his brow and then looking at Louis carefully.

“He said the same thing about you, Louis.”

“He did?” Louis asks, his voice choked and breathy. “When did he say that? When did you see him?”

“He said it in the lift to Sam,” Ed replies and Louis suddenly realizes that Ed monitored Harry’s final trip in the lift, a trip he took without Louis, and the thought makes Louis’ heart ache. Ed continues, “When he got in that car without you, I knew you didn’t pass your Review; I could read it on his face. He looked positively broken, Louis. I can only monitor what goes on _inside_ the lift, but when I saw him jump off, I knew he was rushing back to you.” Ed huffs a quiet laugh. “So, I took Sam for a little ride to give both of you a few extra minutes together.”

“Bloody hell,” Louis marvels. “I couldn’t understand why the lift didn’t come back straight away!” Louis reaches his hand across the table and grasps Ed’s forearm, giving it a squeeze. “You’ve already helped us, Ed. You gave us a gift with those extra minutes. It meant so much to us both to have that time together. Thank you for that.”

Ed ducks his head and smiles shyly, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

“Was nothing. Just took Sam all the way down to the lobby, then stopped the lift on several floors on the way back up.” He chuckles softly when he adds, “I locked the doors so she couldn’t get out. She was a good sport though, looked at the camera and shouted, ‘I know! I want them to move forward together just as much as you do, but their fates are sealed’!”

 _Their fates are sealed_.

Louis lets out a low groan.

“When Harry got back on the lift the second time, I could see your hand and I swear, the way you two were reaching for each other broke my heart. Then, when the doors closed completely, Harry just positively lost it.”

Louis draws in a sharp gasp. “My darling,” he whispers. Ed just looks at him and nods his head sadly, his own eyes becoming glassy and wet at the memory.

“Louis, he just… he dropped to his knees and he was crying and begging Sam to let him stay with you and go back to Earth. He kept saying that he just wanted to see your face one more time, he needed one more look at you, and that he wanted to kiss you…” Ed looks down at his hands, which are fiddling with the base of the coffee cup. He blows out a heavy breath. “He said he didn’t want to go on if he had to go on without you.”

Louis chokes out a soft sob, the tears spilling rapidly down his cheeks. He thinks of the way he dropped to his own knees when he was separated from Harry; the agony of watching those lift doors close for the last time was almost too much to bear. To think that Harry was in the exact same position inside that lift car, feeling the very same pain as Louis, and that he’ll have to keep enduring that pain when Louis is an entirely different person hurts Louis to his core.

“I decided right then, that if you wanted to go to Harry, I’d try to help you get to him so that you could have a final goodbye before you begin your transition.”

“I want that so much!” Louis practically shouts. “Please, Ed! Even if only for a minute, I’ll do anything to see his face again. Please…”

Louis makes kitten paws with the sleeves of his tupa and wipes his eyes and Ed wipes his own, a few stray tears now falling down his cheeks. He nods his head and offers Louis a sad smile.

“I was hoping you would say that, Louis,” he replies and then he slowly slides the massive cup filled with Resident coffee that’s sitting in front of him across the table so that it rests directly in front of Louis. “Now drink.”

Louis immediately recoils at the stench of the coffee, his mouth falling open in shock.

“Wait a minute… What?” he asks, putting his hands up to block his view of the offending vessel. “You’re not seriously asking me to drink that sewage are you, Ed?”

Ed studies Louis carefully for a moment before responding. “Louis, how are you feeling?” he asks.

Louis furrows his brow.

“I feel fine,” he starts. “I mean, I’m a little – ” and then he cuts himself off with a deep yawn, his eyes drooping heavily shut as he opens his mouth wide. When the yawn passes, he immediately sits up straight, slapping his hand over his mouth. “Fuck,” he whispers.

“Exactly,” Ed answers. “You’re starting to get tired, aren’t you?”

Louis slowly nods his head because bloody hell, he’s getting tired and getting tired means falling asleep and falling asleep means transitioning into a new life and he doesn’t want any of that to happen. But he has no other choice but to admit it, because he’s more than just tired; he’s actually utterly exhausted. He’s emotionally drained from the heartache of losing Harry and he’s physically drained from the lack of sleep the previous evening and also the day spent making love to his soul mate. Now that he thinks about it, he realizes he’s never felt so tired in the whole of his existence.

“Don’t think about it,” Ed says, as if reading Louis’ mind. “The last thing you want to focus on is being tired, it will only make it worse for you. Just drink the coffee. I know it will taste bloody awful to you, Louis. But it’s also about twenty times stronger than Intake coffee and you’ll need all the help you can get to stay awake.” He shrugs his shoulders and adds proudly, “I put a little sugar in for you, should soften the blow a bit.”

Louis leans forward and pulls back the lid on the coffee cup. His nostrils are immediately assaulted with an odor so foul that he actually gags. The coffee smells like a combination of raw sewage and an overflowing garbage dumpster that’s been festering in the sun on a hot summer day. He peers inside the cup. The coffee looks greasy and black and… _thick,_ the top of the liquid sparkling with flints of color.

“It looks like a bloody oil spill,” Louis mumbles. He picks up the cup with unsteady hands and raises it toward his mouth, but the smell is so overwhelming that he immediately sets it back down onto the tabletop, a bit of gooey liquid slopping over the lip of the cup and sort of just… _congealing_ on its side.

“I promise you, it’s really quite delicious to those who have an advanced palate.”

“Well, I’ve got a little brain and my palate is pretty simple, innit?” Louis asks, his voice tinged with just the hint of sarcasm. Ed shrugs his shoulders but his expression remains neutral. “Sorry mate. I know you’re just trying to help me,” Louis amends.

“Think of Harry,” Ed prompts sympathetically and Louis nods his head in agreement. “Maybe if you plug your nose it will go down smoother?”

“But if I plug my nose, how am I supposed to swallow? I mean… I need to breathe, don’t I?”

“Yeah, I suppose you do, but you can take smaller sips.” Ed blows out a breath, his lips vibrating like Donald Duck’s, and at any other time, Louis would find Ed’s reaction laughable, but not today, when everything is so serious and time is so limited. “I don’t know, mate,” Ed continues. “The only thing I know for certain is that the New Resident Orientation will be over in about an hour and when that happens, Harry will be escorted onto a tram that will take him to the train station and once there, he’ll board a train that will take him to the next realm. Those trains don’t linger about, Louis. We don’t have much time.”

Once again, Louis wraps his hands around the base of the coffee cup. His mind flashes on the single bite of Marcus’ glebcake that he swallowed on his first full day in Judgment City and how horrific that gelatinous gruel tasted. That was just one small spoonful of Resident food and the flavor was so grotesque Louis barely was able to keep from vomiting. What sits before him now is a massive tumbler of viscous goo formulated for palates far more sophisticated than his own and he can’t believe he has to drink it.

“Honestly, if you don’t drink this coffee, I’d be surprised if you managed to stay awake for the time it takes to get out of this courtyard and on to the main road that leads out of the city, much less make the actual trek to the train station,” Ed prompts, urging Louis on. “You’re going to have to travel there on foot, Louis. You’ll need this energy boost if you have any hope of not falling asleep on the roadside.”

“Fuck,” Louis grunts, but he doesn’t waste another second. He picks up the coffee cup and plugs his nose, immediately downing a huge swig of the pernicious brew.

It’s legitimately the worst thing Louis has ever tasted.

Resident coffee on the tongue of an Intake is the equivalent of rotten, rancid meat, curdling fungus, and overripe cheese all fermented together to create a pungent, viscous slop. It’s grossly tangy and sickly sweet, and Louis only manages to swallow about half of what he’s consumed, the rest he spits out of his mouth, the spray splattering across the pretty pink picnic table and the front of his own tupa, leaving a smattering of blackish brown spots that stain the chest panel of the cream-colored garment as Ed quickly ducks to the side to avoid being showered in the brew.

“Fucking hell!” Louis says. He doesn’t even care about the state of his dress. He just stretches out his sleeve and rakes it over his tongue, trying to rid his mouth of the horrific aftertaste.

“Good job, mate,” Ed smiles happily. “I didn’t even think you’d get _that_ much down on your first try.” He unscrews the cap off the water bottle and hands the bottle to Louis. “Have a drink of water to get some of the aftertaste out of your mouth and then give it another go. I know you can do this, Louis.”

Louis takes the bottle Ed is offering and brings it to his lips, swallowing the clean, crisp liquid greedily, downing nearly half the bottle in a single swallow before Ed grabs at its base and pulls it away from him.

“Slow down, Tommo. If you drink all the water now, you’ll have nothing left to wash down the rest of the coffee.”

“It’s just so disgusting,” Louis replies, and a shiver runs through his body at the thought of having to take another drink of the black tar that sits before him.

“I know it tastes awful to you, Louis. All I can tell you is to keep thinking about Harry. If you drink this, you just might stay awake long enough to see him.”

Louis shakes his head in disgust, but he doesn’t falter in his movements. He picks up the coffee cup, this time not bothering to plug his nose; he just chugs the hot liquid until he’s downed nearly a third of the cup and then he reaches out with a grabby hand for the water bottle. Ed hands it to him instantly and Louis takes a large sip, swishing the water in his mouth and gargling with it before spitting it out in the grass.

“Fucking hell. How do you drink this shit, Ed?” he asks, wiping his sleeve over his mouth.

“It’s actually really delicious, Louis. I think I started drinking Resident coffee about four or five years after I advanced. I swear, the first time all of those incredible flavors exploded on my tongue I couldn’t believe what I had been missing.”

“It tastes like a bloated, dead rat exploded on my tongue,” Louis retorts, but nonetheless, he picks up the coffee cup and forces himself to take another long drink. He chokes and splutters as he swallows, trying to keep the rancid brew down, but his taste buds and stomach are fighting him every step of the way. He looks inside the cup. He’s more than halfway finished. He goes to take another swig from the water bottle but Ed pulls it away.

“You’re almost out of water, Louis. I’m sorry. I should have brought you two bottles. But you’ve only got enough drink left for one more gargle and I know you’re going to want to have it when you finish. You’ve almost got this, keep going.”

Louis nods his head weakly in agreement, begrudgingly picking up the coffee cup and taking another drink, his stomach churning in protest of the thick, vile liquid that is filling it to capacity.

“Listen, Louis,” Ed continues. “You’re going to need more than just my help if you’re going to make it to the train station on time. Returning Intakes have to check-in with their concierges. I know Donald and he’s a good man, but I’ve no idea how he will react to you not showing up for your check-in and that might be a prob –”

“Donald will help me,” Louis interjects and he coughs as he speaks, the putrid flavor of the coffee making it difficult to properly form words. He puts the coffee cup back on the table. There’s only an ounce or two left in the cup but he has to take a break. The inside of his mouth tastes like he’s been swigging a combination of gasoline and the juice of rotten animal carcasses. Once again, he extends his sleeve and wipes his tongue off on its surface, a smelly blackish-brown stain now soiling the garment below the cuff, not to mention the smattering of spots and streaks in the same color that cover the front of his tupa, or the torn and blood-stained fabric near the bottom of his skirt. It’s been less than an hour since his verdict was read and he’s already a complete mess.

“Did he tell you he would?” Ed asks hopefully and then he puts his hands up, not unlike the way Jeremy did earlier when Louis started to tell him about Ed offering to help. “Best if you don’t tell me; the less I know, the better.”

“I’ve heard that said before,” Louis comments and Ed raises an eyebrow and looks around before replying, “Residents don’t lie, Louis. Even if there wasn’t a moral code against lying in the Afterlife, we’re simply unable to do it, nor would we ever _want_ to lie. We live ethically and it’s almost a physical thing, actually. I couldn’t formulate a proper lie if I tried, and I use forty-five percent of my brain.”

“Impressive,” Louis comments sincerely. He looks back down at his coffee cup and when he realizes that he’s starting to feel more energized and more alert, and that the coffee is having the exact effect Ed promised, he wills himself to take another long pull. Ed nods his head encouragingly and continues speaking.

“So if you’ve heard someone tell you that the less they know the better, I imagine that person was someone who was helping, or who had offered to help you and they don’t want to know about what you’re planning on doing in case they’re asked.” He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “Because once word gets out that you’re not where you’re supposed to be, they will come looking for you, Louis.”

“Fucking hell,” Louis whispers and he knows that he can’t hide the fear that the implication behind Ed’s words invokes in him. “Who, exactly are ‘they’?”

“Oh, shit!” Ed cries, once again putting his hands up, as he tries to clarify his comments. “Jesus, I didn’t mean to scare you, Tommo.” He uses air quotes to emphasize his next point. “ _They_ are Residents who only have the best intentions, I promise you. I mean, it’s not like they’re going to hunt you down and torture you or anything like that. Although… there are some unpleasant precautions set in place to deter Intakes from entering the New Resident train station.” Louis’ eyes go wide in question, but Ed just continues on. “Residents will be looking for you in order to _help_ you, Louis. Whether you want their help or not.”

“Help me how?”

“By trying to get you back to your hotel or another safe space so that you can comfortably transition. It’s not the best way to enter a new life if you’re kicking and screaming, trying to hang on to the old one.” He shakes his head sadly. “It’s not a good way to enter a new life at all.”

“I just want to see Harry again,” Louis quietly answers.

“Well, if we can keep you awake long enough to get you to the station before Harry enters, then you can do just that. You both deserve one last chance to say goodbye.”

Louis carefully considers what Ed has told him, and then something sticks out in his mind and he has to ask, “What happens if I enter the New Resident train station, Ed? You mentioned that ‘precautions’ were in place to deter Intakes from entering,” and he uses air quotes to emphasize his point.

“There are… barriers, Louis,” Ed answers slowly. He directs his attention to Louis’ coffee cup and Louis nods, picking the cup up and at last draining it of the final dregs of liquid. He slams the empty cup triumphantly on the table and Ed hands him the water bottle, which Louis immediately chugs, saving just enough to once again rinse his mouth in an attempt to rid it of the acrid taste that is thick and lingering on his tongue.

“Barriers?” Louis asks, as he once again wipes his tongue on his sleeve. “Are there like, barbed wire fences blocking the entrance?”

“No,” Ed answers. He taps his fingertips on the table and leans in. “There are no barbed wire fences, Louis. The barriers are invisible, but they are nonetheless very effective. They’re designed to stop any rogue Intake in their tracks before they can even enter the station.”

Louis closes his eyes for a moment as flickering images of a dream from the night before flit about his brain. He remembers bits about running through the main gate of the train station and that he was struck with – ”

“Electricity,” he says out loud. “The barriers are electric, aren’t they, Ed?”

“Sort of,” Ed answers carefully. “They’re comprised of an energy field that can determine the molecular makeup of those who pass through and when that energy is directed on an Intake body it can feel very much like an electric shock.”

Louis stretches his fingers and remembers that when Harry woke him from his nightmare by pounding on his hotel door, Louis’ hands and feet were actually burning. He was completely disoriented and he felt like electricity was coursing through his body.

“It’s painful to go through those gates, I imagine.”

“Only if you’re an Intake. Residents and New Residents can pass through them freely with no ill-effects,” Ed replies. “There are two energy fields: the first is just inside the main entrance to the train station and the second is at the entrance to the lower platform that leads to the track. But there’s never been a case of an Intake making it past those energy fields, not that many have even tried. In fact, I can’t think of a single Intake who has made an attempt to enter the train station as long as I’ve been here. Returning Intakes tend to accept their fate without question.”

 _But I don’t want to accept my fate_ , Louis thinks to himself. But he doesn’t voice these thoughts out loud, instead, what he says is, “I thought there was no system of punishment in the Afterlife? Being shocked with a bolt of electricity for trying to enter a train station certainly seems like punishment, and a harsh one at that.”

“The energy field wasn’t installed to punish Intakes, Louis. It was actually designed for their safety. Yes, it would be bloody well painful for an Intake to pass through those gates,” Ed concedes, “but that pain is only temporary and serves as a deterrent. Really, what those gates are designed for is to render the Intake immobile so that they can safely be transported back to their hotel and then can transition peacefully. Of course, the painful effects of the shock are only temporary because it typically knocks the Intake unconscious. The fight is gone after that and then the Intake can comfortably begin the sleep of transition.”

_The fight is gone._

“Holy shit,” Louis mumbles.

“Exactly. Which is why we’ve got to get you to that train station _before_ Harry enters. The trams park outside the main gate. You can go to him then and you can have a moment with him before he has to leave. I know it’s not much, Louis. But after what I witnessed this afternoon, I think it would mean the world to Harry to see you one last time. I believe it would mean a great deal to you, too.”

“It would mean everything to me to see him again,” Louis says, his voice laced in sorrow. “Just… just to touch him… just to kiss him one more time.”

He clutches the sides of his heads then, his fingertips pressing against his temples and then he drags them through his hair. He starts tapping his foot rapidly and he realizes when he sets his hands back on the tabletop, that they have a slight tremor.

“The Resident coffee is kicking in, I see,” Ed offers, changing the subject. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel very awake. Keyed up, actually,” Louis answers truthfully. Energy is coursing through his veins and he needs this; he needs to be wide-awake and alert. He needs all the strength he can muster if he’s to make it to Harry on time. “What should I do next, Ed? How do I get to the train station?”

Ed stands up from the bench and Louis follows suit.

“I’m going to walk you out the back way of the courtyard, Louis, and I’m going to tell you the quickest route to the train station. But your first order of business is to get to a courtesy phone and make sure that you’re checked in with Donald. If what you said about him helping you is true – and I don’t want to know if it is or isn’t,” Ed adds, holding his palm upright. “You’re going to need to make sure you’re covered at the hotel. It will buy you a little bit of time.” Ed pauses for a moment and properly surveys Louis’ appearance. “Shit, Louis,” he says, pointing at the bloodstain on Louis’ tupa. “What happened?”

“Oh,” Louis replies. He lifts the skirt of his tupa to show Ed the injury on his leg. “I walked into a stack of tiles. Remember? I told you about it.”

Ed winces at the site of Louis’ bruised and battered leg.

“For fuck’s sake, that must have hurt,” Ed replies. “Wish I would have known. Would have brought a proper bandage for you.”

“I’m all right,” Louis answers. “Just tell me how to get to Harry. If I can make it to the train station before he goes inside, I’ll be even better still.”

 

******

The wife counts through another contraction, taking deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth, all the while concentrating her attention on the rainbow-colored teddy bear that sits near the foot of her bed. The bear is dressed in a black harness and he wears a crystal-studded collar around his neck. He sports aviator sunglasses and has a little black mustache that the friend who gifted the bear to her must have sewn on himself.

The toy is positively ridiculous.

“You know, I’ve assisted in a lot of natural childbirths, but I’ve never seen a focus object quite like this one,” Peggy teases when the wife’s contraction finally subsides. She nods in the bear’s direction, adding, “They must really be expanding their offerings at the Build-A-Bear Workshop.”

The wife’s lips turn up in a smile and she hums in agreement.

“An old friend gave him to me. I’ve had that bear for ages and he always makes me smile.” She taps her covered foot gently against the side of the bear and the toy jostles, but does not tip over. “I figured it might be fun having something a little bit out of the norm to focus on while I push this baby out.” She looks at Peggy and raises an eyebrow, her voice lowering mischievously when she adds, “And what’s more out of the norm than a pansexual teddy bear dressed for a romp in a sex dungeon?”

“How do you know that bear is pansexual?” Peggy asks with a laugh. She puts her hands on her hips and gives the bear a onceover. “You can’t really judge a book by its cover… or a teddy bear by his bondage gear, I suppose. He might be as straight as an arrow but simply fancies some rough play now and again. Besides, gay, straight, pan, or however else he may identify, the most obvious thing about that bear is that he’s proper submissive.”

The wife barks a loud laugh. “Well, the friend who gifted him to me told me the bear was pansexual, so I’ll take his word on it. His name is ‘Sugar Baby’, by the way.”

“Your friend is named ‘Sugar Baby’?” Peggy teases.

“No! The bear is called ‘Sugar Baby’! My friend is called –”

“Sugar Baby…” Peggy interrupts, nodding her head. She winks at the wife knowingly. “Yep. That bear is definitely a submissive.”

“He’s a good old bear,” the wife replies, her voice nostalgic as she thinks of the friend who gave him to her.

“He looks right sweet,” Peggy offers. Softer she adds, “It sounds like you have a fun friend.”

“I do,” the wife agrees. “We’ve been out of touch for the past couple of years, since my husband and I left London, but I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately. I was actually planning on ringing him up before the baby was due, but…” Her voice trails off at the end. _I was afraid this would end like the others_ , she thinks to herself. She clears her throat and pats her belly, forcing the dark thoughts out of her mind when she says, “But then this little bugger decided to show up a couple weeks early and now that phone call will just have to wait.”

“Well, it will be all the more fun when you call him out of the blue and tell him that Sugar Baby here greatly assisted in the delivery of your new son or daughter.”

“I think you’re right,” the wife answers and she then she lets it all sink in. She’s really sitting in a bed in a birthing suite preparing to deliver her first child into this world. She smiles slowly, her lips finally turning up happily as she allows the joy to flow through her body as she rubs her swollen belly.

_This is really happening this time. I’m going to be someone’s mummy._

Rose walks from the fetal heart rate machine where she’s been jotting notes on the wife’s medical chart about the duration and intensity of her contractions, to the foot of the bed. She hangs the clipboard over the end of the bed’s side railing. “Well, regardless of what this bear is into,” she interjects, patting the teddy bear on the top of his head, “I think he’s adorable.” She shrugs her shoulders adding, “Not sure how the conversation in this room so quickly progressed from romantic movies about ill-fated lovers to teddy bears in bondage gear having rough sex, but I have a feeling this will be my favorite delivery of the day.”

Peggy nods in agreement.

Just then, the husband walks into the room carrying a tray of food and a large cup of coffee. The wife smiles at him warmly, relieved that she was able to convince him that she couldn’t possibly deliver the baby in the time it would take for him to make a quick run to the hospital caf. She knew he must be famished; he’d skipped lunch because he was participating in a conference call about a new project he was developing and then he was denied his supper when the wife went into labor. Still, he was quite hesitant to leave the wife’s side. It took Peggy and Rose reiterating the wife’s stance and assuring him that there was no way that she would be delivering the child anytime soon, especially considering she’ only two centimeters dilated, to even get him to contemplate leaving the room to pick up a meal. Finally, it was the loud rumbling of his belly and the wife’s gentle plea of, “Get yourself something to eat, love. Do it for me,” that encouraged him to make a quick getaway. But before he left he made both Rose and Peggy promise that they’d text him on his wife’s cell if there was absolutely any change in the wife’s condition.

There wasn’t.

“What did you get for yourself, John?” the wife asks. The husband sets his tray on the small table that is positioned next to the reclining chair that sits in the corner of the room and immediately walks over to his wife, taking her hand and kissing her forehead.

“Oh,” he answers, looking over at his tray of food. There is a large to-go cup of coffee and a bowl of fresh fruit, but the plate carrying his main course is covered by a domed lid to keep the heat in and he studies it for a moment as if trying to remember what exactly that plate holds.

“Don’t remember do you?” the wife grins.

The husband smiles sheepishly. “I might have been a bit preoccupied when I went through the food service line, love. I just wanted to get back here straight away in case you needed me.” He lifts up the wife’s blanket and peeks beneath it playfully. “But it looks like my rush was for naught. Not a baby in sight.” The wife smiles and nudges his shoulder.

“I told you take your time,” she reminds him.

“You did,” the husband agrees. “I just don’t want to miss a second of this.”

“You two are simply precious, aren’t you?” Rose comments.

“We are,” the husband replies without missing a beat. The wife rolls her eyes in faux agitation, but she doesn’t quite manage to suppress her smile.

“Go eat your dinner before it gets cold,” she encourages. The husband nods and walks over to the table and lifts the lid off his plate.

“Will you look at this?” he sighs happily. He picks up the hamburger that sits on the plate with one hand, and with the other he grabs a couple of chips, popping them into his mouth and closing his eyes as he chews and swallows them down. He then takes a large bite of the burger and walks back over to the wife’s bed, the burger in hand. “Got myself a burger!” he enthuses. “Could have sworn I ordered the shepherd’s pie.”

“You silly, wonderful man,” she laughs, shaking her head.

 

******

“Listen, Louis,” Ed starts. “I know you’re in great shape because I’ve seen you on the footie field. But that having been said, you’ve got quite a trek ahead of you and the Resident coffee will only stave off the inevitable for so long.”

The two are standing outside the rear exit of the Western Courtyard of the Review Center. The street they’re on is a simple two-lane roadway lined with English oak trees, the buildings on the side of the street opposite the Review Center comprised of charming, multi-story cobblestone structures that Louis suspects are Resident flats. Every now and again a tram passes by, but unlike the bright blue, green, red, and yellow trams reserved for Intakes, the trams that traverse this street are plain white. Louis can tell by the dress of the passengers seated within these simple vehicles that the trams are designed to transport Residents, because not a single passenger he glimpses as the vehicles drive by is dressed in a tupa.

As Ed explains to him the directions to the train station, Louis shifts his body from side to side, extending his arms and stretching his fingers and then curling them into tight fists. He’s listening very carefully, but he’s having a difficult time standing still; he’s jumpy and agitated, as if he could crawl right out of his own skin.

Other than smoking the occasional joint when hanging out with his mates, Louis never really bothered too much with drugs during his time on Earth, and he certainly never tried anything harder than grass. Still, he imagines what he is feeling right now is similar to something someone hopped up on speed or cocaine might experience. His heart is pounding violently in his chest and his breathing is comprised of short, rapid breaths as if he just finished a high-impact cardio workout. Yet, he has so much energy that he’s finding it difficult not to just take off running.

“I can’t imagine ever falling asleep again, Ed,” Louis replies, his eyes wide. He hops back and forth between his right and left foot like a boxer warming up for the ring and he tugs at the collar of his tupa, which despite being a boat neck, suddenly feels heavy and constricting against his skin. “My heart is beating so hard I think I might have a bloody heart attack, but I definitely don’t feel like sleeping.” He wipes the back of his hand across his brow. In addition to the uncontrollable energy, he’s suddenly very hot, which is strange because Judgment City has the most agreeable, temperate climate he’s ever experienced and he positively knows that it’s not warm enough outside for him to be perspiring so heavily.

“You’re not going to have a heart attack, Louis. You’re already dead and those sorts of things don’t happen here. But I promise you, as jacked up as you feel right now, what you’re experiencing won’t last very long and the more energy you expend, the quicker the effects of the coffee will wear off. We’ve got to get you on your way.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Louis agrees, nodding his head rapidly. “Just tell me where to go, mate, and I’ll be off.”

“You’re going to be traveling north along this street,” Ed offers, pointing in the designated direction. “There is a courtesy phone two blocks ahead on the opposite side that you can use to call Donald. After you speak to him, you’re going to continue onwards for ten more blocks and that will take you to the edge of the city. You’ll need to move quickly, Louis. But don’t draw attention to yourself. If you see any Residents just continue onward like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.” Ed rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Because you _will be_ where you’re supposed to be, Louis. The Justices got your verdict wrong…” Ed shakes his head and adds quietly, “You deserve to at least see Harry one last time before you go back to Earth.”

Louis feels a rush of sadness at Ed’s words, but he doesn’t allow himself to get overtaken by the pain of it all. He doesn’t have time to be wallow in heartache; he’s on a mission and he cannot fail.

“Where will I go when I get to the edge of the city, Ed?” Louis asks. “How will I know I’ve even reached it? I mean, what if I lose count of the blocks? What if I get lost?”

“You won’t get lost because it’s a straight shot, Louis,” Ed answers, his voice sure and Louis is glad of it. He’s hoping some of Ed’s confidence will seep into him. “You’ll know you’re in the right place because the buildings cut off pretty abruptly. When you get to the end of this street, you’ll turn right and walk two more blocks and then you’ll come to the main road that leads out of the city and to the train station. It’s a wide, blacktop roadway and it goes north through the countryside, along the shore.”

Louis’ mind flashes on a hazy vision of such a road and he remembers that the tram that brought him into Judgment City on the day he first arrived in this realm drove through such a landscape. Maybe it will all come back to him when he sees that road again, but he doubts it, he can barely remember a thing about his arrival, other than the little bits he recalls of Beatrice.

“How far do I have to travel on that road before I reach the train station?” Louis asks. The sun is already dropping low in the west beyond the tall buildings of Judgment City, a golden ball disappearing into a darkening sky cast of orange, purples and reds, the bright blue of the afternoon skyline now slowly surrendering to nightfall. It will be dark very soon, and if the road Louis has to walk to get to the train station is anything like the road that led to the Shepherdshire Recreation Center, he knows it won’t be illuminated with streetlamps.

“It’s a little under seven kilometers,” Ed answers. Louis’ eyes go wide in surprise.

“Seven kilometers?” he practically shouts. “I’ve got to walk fourteen blocks before I even reach that road! I might be in good shape, Ed, but that’s pretty far. How will I ever make it on time?”

“Well, you won’t if we keep talking,” Ed replies. “I wish I could arrange for a tram for you, but I really don’t have any connections in that department and the less people that know about this, the better. You’re going to need to run, or jog most of the way. When you see the main entranceway for the Intake Center, you’ll know that you’re over halfway to the train station. You’ll only have two or three more kilometers to go after that.”

Louis nods his head in understanding and Ed offers him a kind smile that causes a painful lump to swell in Louis’ throat. He thinks back to meeting Ed in the lobby on the first day of his Review and how later that afternoon Ed had to interrupt Louis and Harry’s very heated snogging session in the lift. Ed was a friendly, familiar face when Louis arrived to play footie out at Shepherdshire and he provided Louis that sense of camaraderie that he had enjoyed with Liam and his other mates on Earth. Louis has come to think of Ed as his friend and he’s going to miss him, even though in a few hours, he won’t even know the loss.

 _After this moment I’ll never see him again,_ he thinks to himself. _And even if I do, I won’t remember him_. Without saying a word, Louis abruptly throws his arms around Ed and gives him a firm hug. Ed hugs him just as tightly in return. They pull apart quickly though. Louis doesn’t have time to get overly sentimental; he’s got to get moving.

“There’s one last thing before you go, Louis,” Ed says and he grips Louis’ shoulders and stares at him intently. Louis nods his head, urging him to continue. “It’s perfectly normal that an Intake should be on the streets of Judgment City, but it’s not so common for one to be wandering down one of the country roads on the outskirts of town. If you spot the approaching headlights of a tram, get off the road and do your best not to seen. There’s plenty of trees and bushes about so just… just make yourself scarce.”

“Make myself scarce,” Louis repeats, and Ed nods his head in affirmation. “Okay. I won’t get caught. I can’t thank you enough for helping me Ed,” Louis says, his voice sincere.

Ed smiles at him warmly and pats him on the back.

“I believe in you, Louis,” he says softly. “Now get out of here.”

Louis offers Ed a bittersweet smile and with one more quick hug, he’s on his way. Ed said the courtesy telephone was on the opposite side of the street and so Louis looks both ways and then quickly crosses, turning left and walking briskly along the brick foot-pavement. He reaches the end of the first block, encountering the occasional Resident as he makes his way and offering a friendly smile as he passes them by, trying at all costs to avoid looking suspicious.

When he reaches the second block he doesn’t have to travel very far before spotting the designated phone. The telephone is mounted within a rectangular shaped housing that is closed on three sides with an open front. The housing is made of sleek black granite material, the words _Intake Courtesy Phone_ inlaid on either side and the back of the housing in contrasting white stone. The entire structure sits atop a vertical column driven into the ground on the side of the foot-pavement and is surrounded by a small, enclosed flowerbed bursting with colorful impatiens. It’s by far the most stylish public access phone Louis has ever seen, not that there are an abundance of public telephones on Earth. The phone box on his street in Holborn actually serves as a little library of sorts, with people dropping off used books and if they like, taking one that’s been left behind by someone else in return. Clearly, the phone boxes in Judgment City serve more utilitarian purposes. This particular courtesy phone is about ten meters ahead and Louis jogs over to it, picking up the handset and jabbing the number _2_ button with his index finger.

His heart is still pounding in his chest and he anxiously taps his foot on the pavement as the phone rings. A female answers almost immediately.

“Good evening, you’ve reached The Regency Hotel. My name is Claire, how may I direct your call?” the woman on the other end of the line asks, her voice cheerful and youthful-sounding.

“I’d like to speak to Donald, please. He’s my concierge,” Louis answers. He’s trying to keep calm, but he’s so nervous he’s quiet certain it can be heard in his voice.

“I’m sorry, but Donald doesn’t report for duty for another ten minutes. Is there something I might be able to assist you with?” the woman on the other end of the line, _Claire_ , offers.

“Um… thank you, but no. I really just need to talk to Donald,” Louis replies and he’s suddenly very agitated. If he doesn’t get to speak with Donald, all may be lost before it even starts. “Can you ring his residence for me?”

“Again, I apologize, sir, but he’s not available to speak to Intakes until he’s on duty. Our concierges work very hard and we don’t like to disturb them on their downtime. But I’ll be happy to help you in any way that I can.”

“I _need_ to speak with Donald,” Louis reiterates and there is an edge of frustration to his voice, but he doesn’t want to push it with the person on the other end of the line. He doesn’t want do anything to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

“I’m very sorry, sir,” Claire replies, her voice still light and friendly, despite Louis’ more abrasive tone. “But unless Donald gave you the number to his personal extension I can’t ring him. I do promise that I can help you with – ”

“I have the number!” Louis exclaims, interrupting Claire mid-sentence. Louis remembers the note Donald left for him that very morning containing the number to his flat: the note that Donald told him to destroy. His heart skips a beat when he thinks about flushing the torn-up pieces of that note down the toilet and turning around to see Harry standing there, his hair wrapped in an elaborate bath towel turban. God, he looked so silly and beautiful. Louis misses him so much. He just needs to see him again, if only for a minute or two. Just to see his face one more time would mean everything to Louis. He can see the numbers written in Donald’s careful script clearly in his head. “The number to Donald’s flat is _336_ ,” Louis says.

“Ah! That’s correct,” Claire happily exclaims. “I apologize for making you wait, sir. I’ll connect you directly.”

With that, Louis hears a clicking sound followed by a Muzak version of an old Rolling Stones song.

“Keith Richards outlived me,” Louis absently mutters to himself and then he snaps to attention when he hears a short ring tone and then the sound of Donald picking up on the other end of the line.

“Hello,” Donald says, and Louis has never been so relieved to hear the sound of another person’s voice in his entire life… or death.

“Donald!” he practically shouts into the receiver. He looks around then, making sure he’s not being too loud and calling attention to himself. Luckily, there aren’t any Residents nearby, so he speaks openly to his friend. “Donald, it’s Louis.”

“Oh, Louis,” Donald answers slowly. He lets out a heavy sigh and his voice is sad when he says, “If you’re calling me I don’t suspect your verdict went your way.”

“It didn’t,” Louis answers, and suddenly he’s struck with intense grief, the reality of his situation once again crashing into him, his heart clenching sharply in his chest. It’s so bloody unfair. Harry is his destiny. They’re supposed to spend eternity together and now Louis will be lucky if he gets to give him one last kiss before Harry boards his train and Louis is sent back to Earth to become a helpless newborn. He can feel the moisture welling in his eyes, but he can’t cry again. He won’t let himself. Still, his voice is watery and choppy when he continues. “They’re sending me back, Donald. Harry is moving forward without me.”

“Louis,” Donald mutters, his own voice cracking and then rising angrily. “Your verdict is wrong. I _know_ you and I know you’re ready to advance.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Louis mumbles, “but apparently the Justices don’t think so.”

“The Justices made a bloody mistake!” Donald contends, his voice loud and sharp, and Louis is surprised by his tone. Usually, Donald is so gentle and even-tempered, but Louis has no doubt that his verdict is bringing up unpleasant memories for Donald of when he lost Jane. “I was a delegate for a very long time and I know that you deserve to move forward, Louis. I’m so angry for you and Harry.”

“Are you still willing to help me?” Louis asks, his voice small, and this time, the tears _do_ start to fall and they sting his cheeks. He wipes them away with the sleeve of his tupa and as he does so, he gets a whiff of the Resident coffee that is stained below his cuff and he instantly recoils at the stench. The rancid smell is just another reminder to Louis of his terrible fate. He’s not a Resident and he’s not going to be a Resident anytime soon. But the person he was destined to love is a Resident and now, the two of them are being torn apart. For the hundredth time today, Louis thinks of how fleeting life and death are and how unfair and cruel the universe can be. “I know you told me you would help me, Donald,” Louis forces himself to continue, “but I don’t want to put you in a bad position or get you into any trouble, I just… I just really need to go and see – ”

“Of course, I’ll help you, Louis,” Donald interjects, his voice resolute. And Louis is flooded with relief. “But I don’t want to know about your plans. The less I know, the better.”

“Thank you, mate,” Louis answers. “I know there is some sort of a check-in at the hotel and if there is any way you can cover for me… just to buy me some time.”

“I can’t lie, Louis,” Donald replies. “But I’ll figure something out… I’ve no idea what I’ll say but I’ll do everything in my power to help you. I told you I’d do as much, and I meant it.”

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you, Donald,” Louis says letting out a heavy breath. “You’ve been so kind to me from the start and I’m just…” Louis pauses, feeling himself getting choked up again, the realization that this will be the last time he gets to speak with his friend, heavy on his heart.

Donald has been there for Louis, practically from the very beginning. He helped Louis up to suite in The Regency on the day he first arrived in this realm and he’s been a constant source of support ever since. He brought Louis fabulous meals and told him about the city and all of its wonderful amenities. He arranged for Louis to play footie at Shepherdshire and he brought fresh tupas for Harry so that he would be at home in Louis’ suite. In fact, he cared for Harry just as well as he did for Louis and it meant so much to Louis, knowing that his boy’s needs were met with the same, high standards as were his own. Donald poured his heart out over Jane, opening up to Louis in a way that Louis is certain he hasn’t before with any other Intake and Louis knows it’s because Donald considers Louis to be his friend. Next to Marcus, who Louis can barely stand to think about - the pain of saying goodbye to that friendship too staggering to even contemplate – Donald has been his closest ally in this realm. He’s going to miss him, and just like with Ed, Marcus, and most of all Harry, in a few hours, Louis will have no idea he’s suffered such a great loss.

“I’m very grateful to have met you,” Louis says into the receiver, his voice thick.

Donald is silent for a moment on the other end of the line and when he again speaks, it’s clear that he’s trying to hold back tears of his own. “It’s been my honor,” he replies simply and then he clears his throat. “You best be on your way now, Louis. I’ll think of some way to cover for your check-in, but the hotel manager has been known to do a personal inspection from time to time to make sure returning Intakes are safely settled in their rooms. He hasn’t done one for the past few nights and well… he’s due.”

“Shit,” Louis whispers. “What happens if he goes into my room and I’m not there?”

“Unless it’s very obvious that you’ve been there and have already transitioned; they’ll come looking for you,” Donald quietly answers. Louis feels a chill run down his spine. “Be careful and be quick, Louis. That’s the best advice I can give you.”

“Thank you, Donald,” Louis replies, and there’s really nothing else left to say.

“Louis,” Donald suddenly calls out, just as Louis is getting ready to hang up.

“Yeah, Donald?” Louis asks.

“I believe in you,” Donald declares and then there is the sound of a phone receiver being placed back on the hook and the call is disconnected. Louis stares at the telephone handset for a moment and then places it back into its cradle. He turns and hurriedly walks a few paces down the street when he abruptly stops, turns around, and rushes back to the courtesy phone. He once again picks up the handset, and this time, he pushes the number _8_.

 

******

“Hmph. You’re only three centimeters dilated,” Dr. Cooper mumbles absently, his voice dull. “You’re officially in active labor. But barely,” he adds and he sounds almost annoyed at the wife’s progress, as if she’s told her cervix to take its time dilating just to inconvenience him. He steps away from the bed, peeling off his disposable gloves and then flinging them into a nearby bin before turning back to face his patient. “You’ve got quite a long way to go, yet.”

The wife feels her body tense at his indifferent tone and the husband immediately squeezes her hand to comfort her. She slides her legs back down the mattress and Peggy comes around the bed and pulls up her sheet and blanket, being careful of the belts that are wrapped around the wife’s belly and are connected to the external fetal heart rate monitor that sits to the right of the head of the bed. She then collects the rainbow colored teddy bear, which was moved for the examination, off the bedside tray table and sets it back in position at the wife’s feet. With the wife tucked in and the bear properly in place, Peggy pats the wife’s forearm affectionately, asking her if she needs anything to make her more comfortable.

“The heating pad?” the wife reminds.

Peggy blinks her eyes shut and pinches her fingers in the air. “Oh right! I almost forgot about that,” she answers. “I’m so sorry. I’ll get it for you right now.”

“Thank you,” the wife replies, offering the nurse a smile of gratitude.

Both Peggy and the other nurse, Rose, have been nothing but kind from the moment the wife was checked into her room and she’s thankful that if she can’t have Dr. Pomatter at this stage of her labor, at least she has people who are warm and friendly assisting her.

Dr. Cooper pulls the wife’s medical chart off the railing on the side of her bed and begins to leaf through its pages. “I know you’re a regular patient of our practice,” he begins. “But since I’ve only occasionally tended to you I’m going to need to go over a few things to familiarize myself with your case.”

 _Case. I’m not a bloody case_ , the wife thinks to herself. _I’m a person… Dr. Pomatter understands that_.

The husband gives her hand another squeeze and then pulls it up to his lips, kissing its surface.

“You’ve been on bed rest for the past five weeks, I see,” Dr. Cooper comments, his eyes never leaving the chart. “Severe preeclampsia.”

“I have pregnancy-induced hypertension, yes,” the wife answers.

“It’s sort of like high blood pressure,” the husband interjects, and the wife can’t help but smile at him and his need to clarify to a seasoned doctor the meaning of such simple medical terminology.

Dr. Cooper looks up from his chart and briefly directs his stare to the husband, raising an eyebrow. “I know what hypertension means,” he replies flatly. The wife cringes as she watches the flush that spreads across her husband’s cheeks as he ducks his head slightly in embarrassment. She can feel her own cheeks color with anger in response to her husband’s discomfort. She bites her tongue to keep from snapping at Dr. Cooper. Hopefully she’ll only need to deal with him for a little while longer and then Dr. Pomatter will be in to assist with the actual delivery.

Dr. Cooper walks over to the fetal heart monitor and scrolls back through the electronic readout for a minute before once again returning his attention to the wife’s chart.

“You’re high risk,” the doctor says, looking up at the wife.

“I suppose I am,” the wife quietly offers. “I have no trouble _getting_ pregnant, but I haven’t always been able to carry a child to term… until now, that is.” Once again, she feels her husband’s fingers squeezing around her own in a gentle sign of reassurance.

“You’ve had two miscarriages. The first once at seven weeks, and the second at eighteen,” the doctor comments, his brow furrowed in concentration as he glances back down at the chart. “Two more weeks on the second and it would have been classified a stillbirth,” he casually adds, speaking more to himself than to her.

The wife feels a wave of sorrow crash over her with such force that she gasps a shocked breath and squeezes her husband’s hand hard. She can feel the spring of tears welling in her eyes and she knows she won’t be able to control them.

Both miscarriages were heartbreaking, but the second was especially devastating. The wife was nearly halfway through her pregnancy when she awoke in the middle of night to cramps so severe she could barely breathe. She cried out in pain and her husband immediately woke up beside her, and when he switched on the bedside lamp they were both horrified to see that she was lying in a pool of blood.

When she returned from hospital two days later, without the child she had been carrying in her womb, her husband had already replaced their ruined mattress and stored all of the purchased baby goods away in the attic in a sweet, but somewhat misguided attempt to spare her more heartache. When she walked into the guest room that they were slowly converting into their child’s nursery and found that it had been carefully restored to its original state, she never felt so empty. It was almost as if she had never been pregnant at all and the very absence of all the little plushies and blankets and clothing that she’d started to lovingly collect for their baby made the loss even worse. She was utterly hollow and listless for months.

She doesn’t think she’d ever be able to survive that type of loss again.

“Stillborn fetus was delivered and D&C procedure was performed immediately following,” Dr. Cooper mumbles to no one in particular. He flips through another page of her chart. “Current pregnancy progressed normally until twenty-one weeks, at which time preeclampsia was determined. Hmm… I see you also have the Rh Factor... Interesting.”

The wife tries to hold back her tears, but a stray drop falls and rolls slowly down her cheek. The husband leans over and kisses it away and then nuzzles their noses together, the wife offering him a small, grateful smile in return.

Dr. Cooper looks over to Peggy, who is rifling through one of the cabinets searching for a heating pad to ease the wife’s aching back, her particular type of labor – back labor – getting increasingly brutal with each contraction. “I’ll return in a half an hour or so to check on her again. In the meantime, if any situations should arise with the patient that demand my attention, page me.”

With that, he places the wife’s chart back on the side rail of her bed and turns and exits the room without so much as offering the wife or the husband a second glance.

“When will Dr. Pomatter be here?” the wife asks, her voice a half-cry, half-whine. “She’s supposed to be delivering my baby, not Dr. Cooper.”

“Rose is checking on that right now,” Peggy assures. “She’ll be back shortly with an update.” She walks over with the heating pad and carefully slides it behind the wife’s back, plugging it into one of the sockets on the panel behind the wife’s bed and then handing the wife the control switch so she can be in charge of the heat settings herself.

The wife immediately turns the pad up to its highest temperature of _10_ and just as she does so she feels the tight cramping in her belly and sharp pain spreading across her lower back pain, the familiar, heavy ache of another contraction rolling in.

“Another one coming on, Jess?” the husband asks and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind the wife’s ear. The wife looks at him and nods and then directs her attention to the colorful bear that’s once again perched carefully at the foot of her bed. She breathes in through the nose and out through the mouth and then begins to count.

 

******

Donald McCafferty hangs up the telephone and almost immediately the small, handheld iPad tablet he carries in his pocket to keep track of his Intakes’ activities vibrates. He pulls it out and taps on the message icon on the lower bar of the screen and right on schedule, he receives a list of the Intakes under his care that will be returning back to Earth this evening. Currently, he is responsible for forty-six Intakes. On the day that Louis arrived in Judgment City, Donald was assigned twelve: four in the morning, four in the afternoon (when Louis came in), and four in the evening, and all twelve of those individuals were due to hear their verdicts today. Donald scrolls through the list of tonight’s returnees and sure enough, Louis’ name is listed along with six others.

He lets out a heavy sigh, the sound of Louis’ desperate voice over the telephone still playing in his ears. Donald knows that Louis deserves to advance in the universe and he intends on helping him, he just has to figure out a way to do so without lying because Donald McCafferty doesn’t lie. He hasn’t told a single fib in one hundred and fifty-six years, and he’s not about to start now. Besides, he doesn’t think he could formulate a proper lie even if he tried. He might use fifty-two percent of his brain, but not a single one of those percentage points has worked to create a falsehood in all the years he’s been dead. Lying is something that’s done by the humans of Earth and more often than not, it’s done for impure purposes. Sure, on occasion, a human may lie to spare another’s feelings or for some other justifiable or even admirable purpose, but in the vast majority of cases, people tell lies to get out of responsibilities, to inflate their own importance, or to satisfy selfish desires, and none of those reasons are akin to life after death. The Afterlife is a truthful and honorable place and no Resident lies. Ever. Donald included.

And yet _… a Resident might omit information now and again, or word things in such a way as to be completely truthful, yet not wholly forthcoming_ , Donald thinks to himself, and he suddenly realizes he has a plan for exactly how he’s going to cover for Louis. Donald is a man of integrity and if he’s going to help Louis he needs to do so in a manner that doesn’t compromise his own, moral code, and while that just might prove a tricky endeavor, Donald believes it can be achieved.

When Donald was a delegate, he was known to be both skillful and judicious. He only chose cases where he was fully certain that the Intake facing Review wasn’t adequately prepared to advance in the universe and he presented his arguments expertly and with alacrity. In all of his years as a delegate, he only lost a handful of Reviews and those were all Intakes who were right on the cusp, just like Louis.

But the difference between those Intakes and Louis is that Donald didn’t believe those Intakes were ready to move forward. He never had such a reservation when it came to Louis Tomlinson. Donald has always had a good gut instinct when it comes to reading people and he’s known to be a fine judge of character. When Louis cracked his little joke about being dead before he’d even had his first night sleep, Donald knew that Louis was someone special. During that same encounter, as Donald was preparing to exit Louis’ suite, Louis tried to tip Donald, which was not only endearing, but also the sign of a generous soul. But there was so much more to Louis than those little things that occurred when Donald and he first met. There was something about Louis that Donald recognized as a sort inner-bravery that maybe even Louis didn’t realize he possessed, but Donald knew was simmering beneath the surface, nonetheless. When Donald awoke with an ungodly hangover this morning and remembered that Louis not only indulged his drunken heartache over losing Jane, but that he also tucked Donald into bed at the end of their terrible evening together, he was struck with the realization that even though Louis had yet to receive his verdict, he already had the kind heart and compassionate soul of a Resident.

Donald uses fifty-two percent of his brain, so he knows there might be a little bit of bias coloring his attitude toward Louis; he considers the other man to be his friend, after all. But that doesn’t mean that he’s wrong about him. Donald is certain that Louis is ready to advance and he hopes that that alone will enable him to be honest while covering for him during the nightly Returning Intake check-in. But then Donald suddenly realizes that he will need to do more than just cover for Louis at check-in if he’s going to buy him some extra time in the Afterlife.

_Shit. The room inspections._

Donald has a sinking feeling that he’s going to be seriously pushing the limits of his moral code this evening in order to help his friend.

Donald looks at his wristwatch and realizes that it’s already time for him to leave his flat to go downstairs to the hotel lobby and wait for the arrival of his returnees. His body is buzzing with nervous energy over what he intends on doing to protect Louis, as well as the worry that someone might ask him an outright question that he’ll be forced to truthfully answer.

“Best keep conversation to a minimum,” he mutters to himself as he steps off the lift and walks quickly across the main floor, past the reception area and through the hotel entrance. It’s exactly 7:10 p.m., and the four trams bringing the Returning Intakes back to The Regency for their final rest of death are pulling in to the hotel’s circular drive right on schedule. Donald takes his place with the other concierges, but he stands just a bit apart from the rest, not wanting to engage in any conversations that might put him in an uncomfortable position or compromise his plans. Luckily, no one seems to notice because the first step in the Returning Intake check-in procedure is a serious occasion and conversation between concierges is kept to a minimum so as not to further upset Intakes who have just learned that they have fallen short of being worthy of advancement in the universe.

Being escorted to their suites for the final time can be a somber experience for returnees. Having spent the past several days enjoying the abundance of the finest food, entertainment, and unending kindness that the serene realm of Judgment City provides, the idea of returning to the chaos and uncertainty of life on Earth can be less than appealing. However, there are Returning Intakes who actually look forward to having another go at life on Earth because it affords them an opportunity to redeem themselves from the fears, mistakes, and heartaches of their pasts. For the majority however, the idea of starting all over again as a newborn baby can be both a frightening and unsettling prospect. It’s little wonder so many infants come into the world screaming their lungs out.

For Donald, this part of the check-in process tends to be bittersweet, as he often grows quite fond of the Intakes under his care and in many cases, he’s sad to see his charges go.

Obviously, this is especially true in the case of Louis Tomlinson. Donald feels a kinship with Louis that he has rarely shared with those he’s been tasked with caring for during their hotel stays. Louis is different from the rest: he’s special and his friendship has meant a great deal to Donald. As he watches the Returning Intakes, some of whom are already so sleepy they can barely keep their eyes open, step off the trams for the last time, Donald does so with the intention of providing his returnees the best care possible, while also allowing himself enough time to handle the little things that will buy Louis the extra time he asked for and obviously needs if he hopes to see Harry one last time. Although Louis didn’t tell Donald he was planning on going to Harry, Donald is certain that’s what he intends on doing, just the same.

As Donald assembles his charges in a row, the operator of one of the trams, a man Donald has known for nearly fifty years and is named ‘Steven’, steps off his vehicle and approaches Donald, pulling him to the side and quietly telling him that he needs to be on the lookout for Louis because Louis has chosen to walk back to The Regency, as opposed to riding the tram with the others.

“It’s pretty unusual for an Intake to walk back to the hotel," Steven says, his voice concerned. “I’m not sure why his advocate even allowed it. If he’s not here within the next few minutes, you should probably send someone out to retrieve him. Wouldn’t want him to start his transition in the middle of the foot-pavement.”

Donald cringes, the thought of Louis transitioning in some unfamiliar place, lost and confused, niggling at the back of his mind. He doesn’t want that for his friend and he certainly hopes that by helping Louis, he’s not also putting him in danger of experiencing a traumatic transition. But still, Donald made a promise to Louis and he intends to honor his word. He just hopes that when Louis begins to transition, he will do so peacefully. He pushes that worry out of his mind, instead, focusing on Louis’ wishes.

“Yes, that wouldn’t be very comfortable,” Donald awkwardly agrees, trying to act casual. “But no worries, Steven. I’ve already taken care of Louis.”

Technically, it isn’t a lie. Donald _has_ taken care of Louis, just not in the way that is expected of him by the universe. But he certainly can’t tell Steven that. The most important thing for Donald in this moment is to get away from Steven before he tries to engage in any further conversation or asks any questions.

Steven pats Donald on the shoulder. “Your Intakes are lucky to have you looking out for them, Donald,” he says and Donald thanks him without quite meeting Steven’s gaze. “When did Louis –” Steven starts, but Donald immediately interrupts him.

“I’m so sorry to cut this short, Steven, but I have a great deal to tend to in the hotel and I really must go.” He extends his hand and Steven shakes it, nodding in understanding.

“Have a good night, Donald,” he calls out as Donald makes his retreat, hastily ushering his Intakes across the curved driveway of the hotel and up to its covered entranceway. He holds up his hand and waves to Steven as he goes, but he does not turn around or look back.

When he is back inside the hotel, Donald begins the personalized check-ins that are the first step in the registration process for Returning Intakes. He escorts his charges to their suites as a group, much like he did when they first arrived, depositing each of his Returning Intakes to their rooms one by one. As he does so, he tells them what an honor it was for him to have served them, offers to send them up a meal of their choosing, and with three of his returnees, he actually has to help them get into bed because they are already so close to slumber that they are physically unable to perform the task themselves. Two of his Intakes are still quite alert, which isn’t surprising, as some returnees simply take longer to fall asleep and start their transitions than others. Donald silently hopes that Louis is one such returnee.

Now, having settled all of his Returning Intakes (save Louis) into their suites for their transitions from the Afterlife to a new life on Earth, Donald walks to Room 1215 and stands outside the door to the suite that for the past six days has been resided by his friend.

Reasonably, what Donald plans on doing in Louis’ suite is questionable at best, but Louis told Donald he needed time and Donald intends to give that time to him. He doesn’t know if the hotel manager will be making a random inspection of Returning Intake suites this evening or not, but if does pop his head into Louis’ room, Donald wants to make certain it appears that someone has been there. If the manager assumes that that someone was Louis, well… all the better.

 _This is probably pushing the limits of what is right and what is wrong_ , Donald thinks to himself as he looks around the corridor to make sure no one is about. There area is completely free of hotel guests and employees so Donald uses his keycard to unlock the door and open it, taking one look at his surroundings as he steps inside. He closes the door behind him but he doesn’t switch on any lights. Instead, he walks down the little hallway into the living area and heads straight to the wall of windows at the far end of the room, pulling the heavy draperies that hang on either side of the windows closed. He knows he’s probably being silly, but he can’t risk anyone from one of the nearby buildings looking in and seeing him fussing about in the suite alone, especially if word should get out that Louis has gone rogue.

With the curtains closed, the room is now in total darkness, but Donald has been inside every suite in The Regency hotel thousands of times and they’re virtually all the same and so he has no trouble navigating across the floor, blindly stepping out of the way of the room’s furnishings as he goes.

He walks over to the nightstand, flipping on the bedside lamp to its lowest setting and then he surveys the room. The suite has been recently cleaned by a member of the housekeeping staff, the bed is freshly made, the pillows fluffed, and every little thing is in its proper place.

 _This will never do_ , Donald thinks and then his eyes settle on the little box of chocolates sitting on Louis’ pillow. He picks up the box and examines it in his hand. A surprisingly significant number of Returning Intakes have at least one piece of the candy before they give in to their last sleep of death. It tastes so delicious to them and as the majority of Intakes are too tired to eat a proper meal, that small square of rich, dark chocolate is a satisfying final treat from the Afterlife. Donald opens the box and removes one of the two shiny pieces that sits inside and then sets the box on the nightstand. He walks across the room to throw the chocolate into the trash bin but then he realizes doesn’t want to leave any evidence behind so instead; he pops the little square into his mouth. It tastes utterly bland, nearly flavorless, actually, its creamy texture failing to even register on Donald’s taste buds as it melts on his tongue. Donald’s palate is far too sophisticated for such simplistic offerings, but he swallows the chocolate down nonetheless, thankful that he now gets to enjoy much more delicious and satisfying treats as a Resident.

With the chocolate handled, Donald then walks back over to the bed and pulls the duvet and top sheet to the side. He picks up the pillow that previously held the box of chocolates and bunches it in his hands before setting it back in place and then he quickly trails his hands in a circular pattern over the bottom sheet, tugging at the fabric and pinching it between his fingers. He stands back then and tilts his head, looking the bed over carefully. Even though he’s mussed it up a bit, the bed doesn’t look like it’s actually been slept in.

 _You are not actually going to do this?_ Donald wonders to himself, and then he closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh, shocked by the realization of what he is, in fact, actually going to do.

Fully dressed in his carefully pressed work suit and sporting freshly polished shoes, Donald climbs into Louis’ bed and lies supine, his head on the pillow, his legs stretched out before him. He rolls over onto his side and pulls the covers over his body and then he tosses back and forth, twisting the duvet and sheet and pulling them loose at the foot of the mattress. He stretches and kicks his legs and then finally, when he is fully satisfied that he has properly disturbed the bedding, he carefully slides out beneath the covers and stands upright, allowing them to fall as they may. This time, when he looks the bed over he is confident that it appears that not only has one slept in the bed, but that they’ve also transitioned from that cozy space and gone directly back to Earth.

“Well done, Donald,” he says aloud, congratulating himself on his efforts. But then he happens to glance at the bedside clock, letting out a panicked gasp when he realizes he only has seven minutes to get to the formal conference room for the second and final phase of the Returning Intake check-in. He runs to the en suite and flips on the light, surveying his appearance. His hair is quite messy from rolling around in the sheets and so he grabs a comb and a can of hairspray from one of the shelves and quickly styles it back into place, hurriedly setting the comb and hairspray back where they belong when he’s finished. He brushes his hand over his suit jacket and trousers, attempting to smooth out the newly formed wrinkles and then he tucks in his shirt where it pulled loose due to his tossing about in Louis’ bed. Lastly, Donald straightens his necktie and pocket square.

After Donald has fixed his appearance and clothing, he looks around the bathroom for a moment and decides his work is not quite finished. The end of the roll of toilet tissue has been neatly folded into a triangle, so Donald tears off a length of the paper and tosses it in the toilet, flushing the remnant away. He then squirts a dollop of liquid soap into the sink and turns on the water full blast, grabbing a folded hand towel off the vanity shelf and unfurling it in the air before tossing it on the countertop. He considers wetting one of the fresh toothbrushes that sits in the holder but decides against it. The en suite looks like it’s been used. He doesn’t want to go overboard. He flips off the bathroom light and quickly scurries down the little hallway to the door of the suite, opening it carefully and peeking outside to make sure the coast is clear before making his exit and heading straight to the lifts. He only overlooks one, small, but significant detail as he goes.

Donald takes the lift to the main floor and rushes to the formal conference room, arriving with just under two minutes to spare, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He takes a deep breath. The clock strikes 7:59 p.m. and the final phase of check-in will begin in one minute. Donald is nervous. In all of the years he’s been dead, he’s never committed any sort of rebellious act and the very idea that in doing so he’s going against the highest orders of the universe causes his chest to tighten and his hands to sweat. But then he remembers the sound of Louis’ heartbroken voice during their telephone conversation and he knows that what he has already done and what he is intending on doing tonight is the right thing. Donald is going to help his friend; there is no question about it. He only hopes that his plan will go off without any trouble.

He just needs to buy Louis a little bit of time so that he can see Harry once more before he transitions. But far more than doing this just for Louis, Donald McCafferty is committing this small, renegade act for Louis’ soul mate. There is no doubt that Donald wants to help Louis, but in reality, he’s putting himself on the line for Harry, and he’s doing so because he knows exactly the pain Harry is currently suffering.

 _Jane_.

Donald would have given anything to see Jane one last time before he boarded the train that took him to the next realm. He loved her more than he’s ever loved anyone; more than he ever dreamed was possible to love another person, and the moment they were separated is something he’s lived with every single day for one hundred fifty-six years. Sometimes, the heartache of his loss is almost too much to bear and he doesn’t know how he will go on without her. But he has his work and he spends his days helping others and that gives him purpose. He can’t help but think that helping Louis and Harry is part of his purpose too. Louis’ verdict was wrong; Donald feels it in his gut. But even more than he understands the injustice of Louis’ verdict, Donald knows that Harry’s agony is only just beginning. Being able to see Louis’ face one more time, no matter how briefly, will bring Harry a last moment of joy before he’s separated from his soul mate forever.

The universe is a kind and just place, but sometimes, it can also be very cruel.

Donald gets into formation with the other concierges. They stand alphabetically in a long row and given that his surname starts with ‘M’, Donald’s position is just past the center of the line. George Barlow, the hotel manager, is already stood at the front of the room holding an iPad that contains this evening’s master list of Returning Intakes.

The check-in process is straightforward. George stands before each concierge, one by one, and he reads to him or her from a list containing the names of that concierge’s Returning Intakes. The returnees are then checked in as a group, as opposed to individually, which is a good thing because it would be nearly impossible for Donald to cover for Louis if his Returning Intakes were reported one by one. After he’s read the list, George asks the designated attendant, “Are all of the persons on this list checked-in and fully accounted for?” and the concierge will answer the question with as little or as much detail as deemed necessary for the situation.

Typically, the answer is a simple, “Yes,” followed by a reiteration of George’s own words repeated in such a way as to fully acknowledge his question. Sometimes though, things don’t go according to plan and a concierge might have a bit more to share during this simple question-and-answer session. For instance, a Returning Intake might be so exhausted when they arrive back at The Regency that they plunk down on a chair or sofa in the hotel lobby and fall asleep right then and there, their transitions starting before they can even be assisted to their rooms. On more than one occasion, Donald has gone out to collect his latest group of returnees from the tram, only to find that one of the persons under his care had fallen asleep on the journey from the Review Center and had transitioned back to Earth before the tram even arrived at the hotel. These occurrences are rare however, and for the most part, Returning Intakes have just enough energy to make it back to their suites before they give in to their final sleep of death. As such, the Returning Intake check-in is more often than not completely routine and devoid of any variations from the standard script.

George approaches the first concierge in line, Donald’s friend, Kate. He taps the screen of his iPad and then announces, “Kate Arborghast, the list of Returning Intakes under your care are as follows,” and then he reads off eight names, sorted alphabetically. When he’s finished reading the names he asks, “Are all of the persons on this list checked into their rooms and accounted for, Kate?”

Kate provides the exact response that Donald has supplied for ninety years when the answer to the question of whether his Retuning Intakes are checked in is a simple, “Yes.”

“Yes,” Kate answers. “All of the Returning Intakes under my charge are fully accounted for and have been checked into their suites.”

It’s the standard answer most concierges use with little variation and as George make his way down the line, reading off lists of names, Donald hears the phrase, “Yes. All of the Returning Intakes under my charge are fully accounted for and have been checked into their suites,” repeated again and again by his co-workers. There are twenty-three concierges in the line-up and by the time George Barlow reaches Donald, Donald has heard the phrase repeated without variation no less than thirteen times.

George approaches Donald and stands before him.

“Donald McCafferty,” George begins, “the list of Returning Intakes under your care are as follows,” and he begins to read through the names of the seven Intakes that Donald has tended to for the past six days and who are now being sent back to Earth. When George gets to Louis’ name, Donald nearly flinches, but he somehow manages to control his nerves and stands still. George finishes reading off the names and then he smiles at Donald and asks the question Donald has been anxiously awaiting and also dreading to hear: “Are all of the persons on this list checked into their rooms and accounted for, Donald?”

Donald smiles warmly at George, trying desperately to keep his cool as he skips the word, “Yes,” completely, because if he says “Yes,” that would imply all of the Intakes under his care are in their suites and they are not. Donald doesn’t lie, so what he says instead of his standard answer is, “All of the Returning Intakes under my charge are fully accounted for and are _right where they need to be._ ”

It’s not a lie.

Six of Donald’s Returning Intakes have been checked into their suites and the seventh, Louis, is wandering Judgment City somewhere, searching for Harry. All of Donald’s charges are fully accounted for and exactly where they need to be… as far as Donald sees it, anyway. But still, his answer is unusual at best and he hopes that he hasn’t just blown everything by not coming up with a more clever response to George’s question.

Donald has barely finished his sentence and closed his mouth before he feels several pairs of eyes watching him curiously, George Barlow’s included. He glances to his left and then to his right and sure enough there are more than a few heads turned his way, staring at him like he’s just spoken in a language only twins understand.

“Your Returning Intakes are right where they need to be, Donald?” George questions, his voice flat and his facial expression unreadable. Donald feels his stomach drop.

“Yes, George,” Donald answers and he looks George directly in the eyes, forcing a casual smile as if what he’s just said is perfectly normal.

The room is completely silent and George studies Donald carefully. Donald realizes he needs to do something to break the tension and he needs to do it right now.

“What?” Donald says to no one in particular, trying to sound nonchalant, his tone light. He manages a small chuckle and looks back and forth along the row of concierges, his eyes once again settling on George as he smiles mischievously and shrugs his shoulders. “Can’t a person mix it up now and again?”

Nobody in the room moves or says a word; the only sound heard in the grand space is the clock ticking on the wall. Donald can feel his pulse thudding in his temples, a thin sheen of perspiration breaking out under his arms and on the back of his neck. He’s so nervous George will ask him the question again and he’ll be forced to give a more straightforward answer of “Yes,” or “No,” and if that happens, he’ll have to reveal that Louis is not in his suite. In fact, he’ll have to tell George that Louis is not in the hotel at all.

 _Please move on_ , Donald thinks to himself, willing for George to drop the subject and move on to the next concierge in the line. _Please, please, please move on_.

To Donald’s great relief, George Barlow’s face slowly breaks into a wide grin and then he barks a loud laugh and slaps him on the shoulder.

“Here! Here!” George cheers. “Sometimes a little change of pace, no matter how small, can be quite liberating. Good on you, Donald!”

The other concierges in the line-up slowly start to smile, some of them giggling softly at this simple, yet unexpected modification to the nightly ritual. Every person in this formal conference room has taken part in these check-ins thousands of times and even though all the concierges who work at The Regency do so for the sole purpose of helping the newly departed, that doesn’t mean that things don’t occasionally get monotonous. Donald knows he’s not alone in considering these check-ins to be the most tedious aspect of Intake care and it’s hardly surprising that something so insignificant as this small variation in the standard dialogue has briefly broken the banality of registering Retuning Intakes for their journey back to Earth. Donald grins happily, completely proud of himself.

George shakes his head, muttering, “You’re a funny one, Donald,” as he moves down the line to greet the next concierge, an older man by the name of Morgan. After George goes through the usual routine of stating Morgan’s name and then reading off the list of his Returning Intakes, he asks Morgan the same question of whether his charges are checked into their rooms and accounted for that he has asked every concierge who came before him, but before answering, Morgan turns to Donald and winks.

“All of the Returning Intakes under my charge are fully accounted for and are right where they need to be,” Morgan says with a grin, repeating Donald’s words verbatim. Everyone in the line up starts to laugh, Donald and George included.

 _Maybe, I’m actually going to get away with this_ , Donald thinks to himself.

Finally, after several minutes have passed and three more concierges have used Donald’s line when reporting their Returning Intakes, the final phase of the check-in procedure concludes and the concierges are dismissed, the majority returning to the main lobby of the hotel to greet their next batch of charges. Donald has the following day off and so his work is finished for the evening. He walks across the hotel lobby to the lifts with the intention of returning to his flat when he catches sight of George Barlow and he stops in his tracks. George is standing by the front desk, casually chatting with one of the night clerks, but it’s what’s in George’s hand that has caught Donald’s attention, because George is clutching a master key card.

 _Shit_ , Donald thinks to himself. There is only one reason that George is holding that key card and it’s so that he might personally check in on the Returning Intakes. A sudden rush of panic washes over Donald as he realizes that within the next few minutes, George will be using that card to open the door to Louis’ suite, and dear god, what if he didn’t do the right thing by making Louis’ room look like it has been recently occupied? Maybe climbing into Louis’ bed and mussing the sheets was taking things too far. Donald swore an oath to the universe and now he’s worried that he’s pushed that oath to the very limit, if not shattered it completely. He draws in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and as he does so, the image of Jane flashes before him. His heart aches painfully in his chest, but then he thinks of how much it would have meant to him to have seen her face one last time before they were permanently separated. His mind then turns to Harry. He knows how much Harry is suffering right now and that he is surely pining for Louis the way that Donald has pined for Jane for over a century and a half. He takes another calming breath and then it flows through him: the comforting knowledge that he acted with integrity in covering for Louis and that by doing so, he’s also served the universe.

“I did the right thing,” he mumbles, and he doesn’t even realize that he’s spoken the words out loud until his friend Kate taps him on the shoulder and asks, “Did you say something, Donald?” Donald’s eyes go wide in surprise.

“Kate!” he exclaims, a little too enthusiastically. “I didn’t see you standing there.”

“Taking to yourself, were you?” she teases and Donald smiles warmly in response.

“I suppose I was. It’s been a long day,” he says softly, and Kate pats his forearm gently. Kate knows that Donald’s anniversary was yesterday. She knows about Jane. She clears her throat and she sounds almost nervous when she asks, “Donald… um… would you want to go get a bite to eat? I’m off for the evening and it might be fun to get out of the hotel for a bit.”

“Well, I just had my supper an hour ago,” Donald replies, completely oblivious to Kate’s intentions. He glances over at George and feels a nervous flutter of butterflies in his stomach as he watches the hotel manager speak animatedly to the night clerk, waving his hands about, the key card flashing back and forth in front of Donald’s eyes.

“Oh,” Kate answers, her voice defeated. But then she smiles and she sounds hopeful when she says, “Well, we could go for a walk, or maybe take in a show?”

Donald has been completely consumed with thoughts of Jane for so many years that he’s never even considered the idea that someone would want to spend time with him beyond the perimeters of mere friendship, and he certainly doesn’t believe love is possible with anyone but his soul mate, so he doesn’t grasp the meaning behind Kate’s invitation.

“Hmmm,” he mumbles, his eyes straying back to George. But this time, when Donald looks at the hotel manager, George pauses his movements and catches Donald’s eye. He furrows his brow as if considering something and then he turns to the desk clerk and it’s obvious that he’s excusing himself and Donald just knows, he knows without a doubt, that George is going to come over and speak to him.

“A walk sounds lovely!” Donald exclaims and Kate’s eyes go wide.

“Really?” she asks, as if she almost doesn’t believe him.

“Of course! I could use some fresh air,” Donald answers. He grips Kate by the elbow and starts leading her in the direction of the main entrance to the hotel.

“Don’t you want to go up to your flat and change out of your uniform first?” Kate asks. “I’d sort of like to go change out of mine.”

Donald glances at George and when he realizes that George is walking across the lobby in his direction and that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of him, Donald feels like he has no other choice but to smile and nod his head in acknowledgement. He doesn’t really know what else he can do. It would be obvious if he just ignores George; they’re friends, after all. Still, he can’t take the chance that George will come and speak to him, so he offers him the friendly gesture and continues on toward the exit, Kate in tow.

“I’d prefer to go now if you don’t mind,” Donald says as they approach the main doors to the hotel. “We can go for a walk and maybe get a bite of dessert after?”

“That would be wonderful,” Kate agrees happily. Donald holds the door open for her and as he does so, he turns back to look at George who is still eyeing him steadfastly. Donald once again forces a smile and then holds his hand up and waves it slightly in the air. George tilts his head and then smiles awkwardly, his expression confused as he waves back.

Donald pushes through the door of the hotel behind Kate and only when he and Kate are outside on the brick foot-pavement, out of sight of George and far away from any questions he may ask, does Donald finally breathe a sigh of relief.

 

******

The sun has disappeared beyond the horizon, with just a thin orangey red line separating the ground from the darkening night sky, the full moon slowly rising in the East. Louis makes his way along the foot-pavement that lines the quant little backstreet that will eventually take him to the outskirts of Judgment City, the overhead street lamps and lights from the surrounding buildings illuminating his path as he goes. He walks quickly, just short of a jog, all the while trying to pay attention to his surroundings and avoid looking suspicious to the occasional Resident who happens by.

Louis has mixed feelings as he hurriedly walks along his designated path. Not in regards to his decision to seek out Harry one last time; he’s certain that this trek to the train station will be more than worth the effort, even if he only sees Harry’s beautiful face for a few seconds. But what he’s unsure about are the two phone calls he just made before officially embarking on this stretch of his journey.

First, Louis called Donald, and as Louis suspected, his friend was more than willing to put himself on the line on Louis’ behalf. Louis has no idea what Donald intends on doing to help him, but he’s certain his friend won’t let him down. Even if Donald’s interference only buys Louis a few extra minutes on his journey, those extra minutes might make the difference between Louis seeing Harry again or not.

But it was Louis’ phone call to Beatrice that troubles him. Actually, Louis didn’t reach Beatrice at all, and the fact that he didn’t get to speak to her has left him uneasy. When Louis hung up with Donald, he’d started down the street that will ultimately take him to the open road that leads to the train station, when he remembered Beatrice. Beatrice was the very first person to offer Louis help and as that thought sprung to his mind he immediately turned on his heels and went straight back to the courtesy phone, hitting number _8_ on the dial, and praying that Beatrice would be on the receiving end of his call. But when the operator of the Intake Center answered the phone, she informed Louis that Beatrice was busy with a new arrival and then she asked him if anyone else could be of assistance to him. Louis remembered that on their first meeting in the park, Beatrice had given him two other names of persons who might be willing to help him, but his brain was racing with so much caffeine from that horrid Resident coffee that he couldn’t concentrate enough to remember what those names were.

“Shall I take a message, then?” the operator had asked, and Louis panicked. He didn’t know what to say because he didn’t want to risk putting Beatrice in some sort of jeopardy by revealing his reason for the call. He couldn’t very well say, “Yeah, sure. Tell her Louis Tomlinson called and that I’ve gone rogue and could really use some help in defying the will of the universe.”

That wouldn’t have worked well at all.

Instead, what Louis rushed out was: “If you could just let her know Louis called… just… tell her Louis was looking for her,” and then he barked a quick “thanks” and hung up the receiver without waiting for a response, worried that he’d said too much.

The very last thing that Louis wants is to cause his friends any harm or compromise their positions in the universe, especially because they helped _him_. Jeremy, Ed, and Donald all made it very clear to Louis that the less information he shared, the better and maybe he shouldn’t have left a message for Beatrice at all. It’s not like it’s going to do any good anyway. Louis didn’t give any information regarding his location or his plans, so it’s not like Beatrice will know where he is or how to help him, even if she wants to.

“Doesn’t matter,” he mutters to himself, attempting to boost his own confidence. “I’ll still get to Harry. I know I will.”

He’s now on block six of the twelve blocks he needs to traverse before he’ll make the turn and walk the last two blocks to the main road, and his shin is starting to ache and throb where he injured it earlier on the stack of tile. He tries as best as he can to ignore the pain, but it’s beginning to hinder his movements and he’s limping slightly. He approaches the intersection before the seventh block, just as the crossing signal changes from the image of a walking pedestrian to a flashing red hand – indicating the turn from _Go_ to _Stop_ \- and Louis slows at the crosswalk, unable to still completely. The energy from the Resident coffee has fully kicked-in and he shifts from side to side, his body almost trembling with the need to keep moving, but the warning crossing signal indicating he must wait. He shakes out his hands and watches as the lone tram that is traveling down the cross street passes by. He contemplates jaywalking, crossing the street against the signal, but then he remembers that he’s not to call unnecessary attention to himself, so he seizes this momentary pause in his movements as an opportunity to check on his leg and he stands under the corner streetlamp and carefully lifts up his tupa skirt to examine the injury.

“Jesus,” he mutters at the sight before him. The wound where his skin was torn open by the marble tile has failed to fully scab over and Louis suspects his continuous movements are to blame, the up and down motion of his foot on the pavement stretching and contracting the skin on his shin bone and rendering the injury soft and raw. The bruising has spread too and is now a wide swath encompassing almost the entire bone from the base of his knee to the top of his ankle, completely obstructing his “Rogue” tattoo in a field of blackish purple and blue.

“That doesn’t look good, friend,” comes a deep male voice, startling Louis. He immediately drops his tupa skirt and stands upright. The voice belongs to a Resident who is standing directly beside him, eyeing Louis with a concerned expression on his face. Louis has no idea where the man came from and he realizes in the moment that maybe he hasn’t been paying as much attention to his surroundings as he originally thought.

The man looks to be around Louis’ age. He has dark skin, hazel eyes, and his hair is cropped in a perfect fade, the sides tapered from the top of his sideburns and extending to a meticulously groomed beard. He wears an exquisitely tailored three-piece suit and carries a leather attaché case, and his dress alone leads Louis to believe that he’s some sort of Judgment City authority figure, at the very least an advocate or delegate, or maybe even a justice. The man is ridiculously handsome and he reminds Louis of Turner, the co-worker who hit on him at his company holiday party and was indirectly responsible for Louis accepting the fact that he was gay.

“It’s not so bad,” Louis answers, trying his best to sound breezy and calm, but he knows that his words are tumbling from his lips a little too fast, another side effect from the coffee. “Wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and had a bit of an accident, but I’ll be all right.”

“Well,” the man replies, “Intake injuries tend to take a bit longer to heal than those suffered by Residents.” He studies Louis carefully as he speaks, and if he notices that Louis seems especially… _hyper_ , or that he’s talking a bit fast, the man doesn’t acknowledge these facts. Louis tries hard not to fidget, but with all the caffeine rushing through his veins and the way this stranger is looking at him, he’s starting to feel anxious. “But that wound should start to clear up in the next day or two.”

_In the next day or two._

In the next day or two Louis will be a newborn infant, helpless and unformed, devoid of any memory of his time in the Afterlife or of his beautiful soul mate. The thought makes his stomach clench and he clears his throat, burping silently, the action causing his mouth to fill with the acrid aftertaste of the Resident coffee.

Louis looks up at the crossing signal and the red hand is still prominently displayed, meaning that he has to stay stood in this spot for however much longer this bloody light will take to change, when all he wants to do is get moving. His body _needs_ to move; he’s positively desperate to rid himself of the energy that is threatening to shoot from his limbs at any moment. If Louis could inconspicuously perform jumping jacks while standing here at this intersection, he happily would.

“When I was alive I never would have thought a person could get injured when they’re already dead,” Louis rushes, making an attempt at small talk and trying to be polite. This stranger seems to think that Louis has more time in the Afterlife ahead of him and Louis doesn’t want to do anything to cause him to think otherwise. Engaging in idle chatter might cost Louis a few minutes right now, but he’ll make up for it later when he’s on the main road and can actually run. And fucking hell, he can’t wait to run.

“Well, people don’t get seriously hurt here,” the man contends. “Nobody is going to break a bone or suffer anything more traumatic than a bruise or a gash. But those types of injuries _do_ hurt and from the size of the bruise on your leg and the look of that gash, I imagine your injury is quite painful.”

The crossing signal changes, the red hand finally disappearing and the cartoon image of the pedestrian once again illuminated, signaling to Louis that it’s safe to cross the intersection.

“Best be on my way, mate,” Louis says, ignoring the man’s last comment. He starts to cross the street, relieved to once again be moving. But much to his chagrin, the man walks with him, keeping an exact pace with Louis and staying close by his side.

“Where are you headed?” he asks. “It looks like you could use some ice on that shin of yours.” The man lowers his voice and his words come out as a question when he says, “I’d be happy to hail a tram for you so that you don’t have to walk back to your hotel?”

“Oh, no worries. I’m fine,” Louis replies, the two men stepping onto the curb and starting down the seventh block of Louis’ designated trek. The very last thing that Louis wants is to take a tram back to his hotel. He needs to get away from this stranger, the sooner the better. He has the oddest feeling that this man is giving him some sort of test, like he’s scrutinizing Louis. If this Resident is testing Louis, then it’s a test that he decidedly does not want to fail. “I… I’ve had a long day and could use the fresh air.”

“Ah yes,” the man agrees. “The Review process can be quite taxing. Especially on Verdict Day.”

Louis momentarily falters in his steps, but then he quickly regains his footing, silently praying that the other man didn’t notice him trip up.

 _Why would he mention Verdict Day?_ Louis wonders. He feels the onset of panic, worry seeping through his skin that whoever is in charge of the universe already knows that Louis isn’t where he’s supposed to be; that they’re already looking for him. Maybe this man was sent out to collect Louis and drag him back to his hotel. The thought makes Louis’ heart physically hurt; he just wants to see Harry one last time. Is that too fucking much to ask?

“Right. Well, I won’t keep you,” Louis says, once again dismissing the man’s comments. He can’t help but cringe at the squeak in his voice, his nerves obvious. “It’s been really nice chatting with you.”

With that, Louis quickens his steps even more, taking large strides across the foot-pavement in an attempt to outrun the man who is nonetheless still walking beside him, so close in fact that they are almost touching, their feet moving across the rows of brick in perfect tandem.

“We’re approaching one of my favorite restaurant districts,” the man says, matter-of-factly. Indeed, the residential buildings on the street begin to give way to a series of charming restaurants that line either side of the street, their offerings ranging from Italian, Chinese, American, and Ethiopian fare, to name a few. “Of course, you’d be hard pressed to walk more than a few blocks in Judgment City without happening upon a restaurant district. This place has more eateries than there are people.”

“There’s great food here,” Louis hums, moving ever quicker and trying to rid himself of his unwanted company.

They pass a restaurant with a large outdoor patio that extends all the way to the very path they are walking on, a low, wrought iron fence serving to contain the space, hundreds of strands of white lights forming a brilliant canopy above it. Its café tables are covered in bronze colored tablecloths with little black lamps serving as centerpieces, and its diners are comprised mostly of Intakes enjoying carefully arranged plates of haute cuisine that look more like art than actual food. Even the plates of gruel that sit in front of the Resident diners are arranged beautifully, although Louis would rather die all over again than eat even a single bite of that fare, the rancid aftertaste of the Resident coffee still coating his throat. The restaurant seems both inviting and hip and Louis thinks that if he had more time in Judgment City it would be a fun place to take Harry. They could sit outside and feed each other the colorful bites of amuse-bouche, sip fancy cocktails, and hold hands under the table. God. Louis just needs to see Harry again, and why is this man still following him?

“My name is Jared Brown,” the man says as they finally pass the outdoor bistro, the lingering chatter of diners fading in the distance. They next walk by a pizza joint, the smell of Italian seasonings and buttery crusts thick in the air. Louis’ stomach growls and he realizes he’s a bit hungry, the light lunch and snack he and Harry shared has now long since digested and it’s officially past his normal dinner hour. But then his stomach rumbles a second time and the action causes another wash of Resident coffee to surge up into the back of his throat and the horrific taste is enough to quell his appetite. For now, anyway.

“You’re getting hungry,” the man comments.

“Maybe a little. But I’m good, mate,” Louis replies.

“Jared,” the man responds.

“Right, Jared. Sorry,” Louis answers. He doesn’t tell the man, _Jared_ , his own name. Instead he juts out his hand and Jared automatically shakes it. “Nice to meet you, Jared,” Louis says and he looks over at Jared, offering him what he can only hope is a smile that doesn’t reek of desperation.

“Nice to meet you too, Louis,” Jared answers, and Louis takes a few more steps before Jared’s words hit him and he stops in his tracks. He turns to face Jared. Jared is looking at him with a kind expression on his face, but Louis just stands there staring back at him stupidly as his hope crumbles down around him. Louis never told Jared his name and if Jared knows it, that can only mean one thing.

 _This is it_ , Louis thinks to himself. _It’s all over and I didn’t even make it out of the city limits_. His heart sinks heavily in his chest and he can feel the tears begin to well in the corners of his eyes. Louis is suddenly so overcome with emotion that he almost lets out a sob but he manages to hold the sound and the tears inside. All he wanted was to kiss Harry one last time and now that’s not going to happen and Louis feels the same desolation he felt when he heard his verdict. It’s so bloody unfair. Louis draws in a breath and tries to calm himself, even though he’s so hopped up on caffeine he can barely stand still. Jared can drag him back to his hotel if that’s what he’s here to do, but Louis is going to at least keep his dignity about him as they go.

_Harry._

_Harry._

_Harry._

Louis repeats Harry’s name in his head like a prayer. He promised Harry he’d think of him before going to sleep and he intends to keep that promise. He just didn’t think he’d have to honor that promise so soon. The universe has won and Louis has lost and Jared is no-doubt here to tell him just that, so Louis better start focusing on the oath he made to Harry and dismiss everything else. He might not get to see those beautiful green eyes or plush raspberry lips one last time before he goes under like he’d so desperately hoped, but Louis will concentrate on the person he loves best, just the same. Louis decides right then that he’s not going to make small talk with Jared on the way to his hotel, and he’s going to ignore the sights and sounds of the city as they traverse these pretty streets for the last time. He will allow no diversions. Louis isn’t going to permit any thoughts to pass through his brain except for visions of the beautiful boy he’s leaving behind.

 _“I’ll take a peace of you with me when I go_ ,” he had told Harry as they stood outside the lifts. Louis’ eyes momentarily flutter shut because he’s so overwhelmed with the anxiety that his words won’t come true.

“Louis, my name is Jared Brown,” Jared says, interrupting Louis’ thoughts and once again repeating his full name. Louis wishes Jared would stop talking already and get on with it and take him back to his hotel because he doesn’t want to think of a single thing outside of Harry before he transitions back to Earth and if the other man keeps talking he’s going to distract him from that goal.

“Right,” Louis answers, his voice weak and thick with the tears that are yet to fall. “You’re name is Jared and you’ve come to – ”

Jared holds up his hand to silence him.

“My name is Jared _Brown_ , he repeats, emphasizing his last name, and Louis has no idea why the man’s name matters so much, or why he keeps saying it again and again. He just wants to get this over with. The thought of being returned to Earth is bad enough, and now he’s expected to be on a first and last name friendly bases with this man who amounts to being his captor? He doesn’t want to cry in front of this stranger, especially if he’s his escort back to The Regency, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold off much longer; the corners of his mouth are already tugging downwards in grief and his eyes are bleary with tears.

Jared places his hand on Louis’ shoulder and he smiles reassuringly at him, as if he understands exactly what Louis is thinking and Louis finds the gesture oddly comforting, despite his heartache over the situation. “I’m Jared Brown of the Advocate Offices of Diamond, Brown, Smith, and Wilson, Louis,” Jared says, his eyes locked on Louis’ own, his tone soothing, but serious. “I’m not here to take you anywhere.”

_What?_

_Diamond, Brown, Smith, and Wilson?_

_That’s Marcus’ firm,_ Louis thinks to himself and his mouth falls open in shock. He tries to speak but at first no sound comes out and then he clears his throat, the putrid echo of the Resident coffee once again unfurling over his tongue, but he swallows it down. He opens and closes his mouth a few more times and then he finally manages to mumble, “You work with Marcus,” and it’s not a question.

“I do,” Jared agrees. “We’ve been partners for over two hundred years.”

Jared begins to walk, and at first Louis doesn’t even realize they’re moving, he just follows along, his eyes trained on Jared, and he doesn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to the foot-pavement in front of him.

“Watch where you’re going,” Jared cautions and Louis looks ahead just in time to catch himself before he veers completely off the brick walkway and strides straight into the vertical ground post of a street lamp that is suspended over their path.

“Thanks,” Louis mutters.

“Of course,” Jared answers.

“Why are you here?” Louis blurts out, and part of him is terrified that the answer will be that in addition to being an advocate, Jared spends his free time retrieving rogue Intakes and returning them to their quarters so that they can transition without disrupting the universe. The thing is, Louis is so confused. Just because Jared works with Marcus doesn’t mean that he’s _not_ planning on taking Louis back to his hotel. But then it dawns on Louis that they’re headed in the opposite direction of The Regency and Jared doesn’t seem to be slowing down or making any effort to change their course. Louis is afraid to allow himself the pleasure, but he’s starting to feel his hope trickle back in and that’s a very good thing because hope is what is keeping him moving, the threat of not seeing Harry again almost too much to bear.

“Louis, you don’t need to be frightened,” Jared starts, answering the thoughts running through Louis’ mind as if Louis had spoken them aloud. “I can sense that you’re nervous and I’m not hear to harm you or disrupt your… plans.”

“Plans?” Louis asks, trying to pretend that he has none.

“Nothing I want to know about,” Jared responds.

Louis feels an overwhelming sense of relief. It rushes over his body like a cool waterfall on a stagnant summer day, but he’s still unsure of what will happen next. He’s really only just begun his journey and he’s not certain he’ll even make it to the train station on time.

“Then why are you here?” he asks as they approach the end of the block. The intersection between the seventh and eighth block is small and there are no crossing signals. Both men stop and look both ways, determining that the street is clear and they quickly cross it to the other side. “Did Marcus send you?”

“I’d rather not discuss Marcus, Louis,” Jared answers, and Louis is suddenly reminded of the way that everyone he’s spoken to since he’s begun this little journey has wished to keep their conversations with Louis private and to the bare minimum.

“I understand,” Louis answers. “The less I know the better.”

“That’s correct,” Jared responds, picking up his pace just a bit, almost as if he knows that Louis is in a hurry. “And the less that _I_ know about your activities, the better still. I’m only here to check on you and to make sure that you’re safe." He turns to look at Louis, his feet never losing their pace on the pavement as he eyes Louis from head to toe. “You look a little… rough,” Jared assesses and Louis instantly rakes his fingers through his fringe and smoothes down the front of his tupa, as if doing so will magically improve his appearance. Jared’s lips turn up in a slight smile. “You look fine, Louis,” he revises. “A little disheveled maybe, but otherwise all right. Now that I know that you’re okay, I can be on my way.”

Jared actually turns then and takes a step away from Louis.

“Wait!” Louis exclaims, grabbing Jared by the elbow. He slows to a stop, and Jared stops with him and when Louis continues speaking, his voice is shrill and tinged with panic. “You’re just leaving? You’ve got to give me a little more than that, mate. You can’t just breeze in, announce that I’m safe, and then leave me without any further explanation. I mean… I’m safe from what, exactly?”

Jared looks Louis over carefully, his eyes slowing to study the splatter of coffee stains across the front of his tupa.

“There was concern that you might transition somewhere uncomfortable… or even out in the open in a public space where a New Intake might see you. That could be a traumatic experience for both of you, but especially for you.”

Louis raises an eyebrow in question and Jared continues talking.

“Intakes carry an imprint of their former lives and experiences when they start over on Earth, Louis. If your last act of death was to collapse onto the hard pavement somewhere while you violently fought against sleep, well… that wouldn’t be a very healthy send-off as you leave this realm and enter the next. And it wouldn’t be a very happy start to your next life, either. A transition fraught with trauma could potentially have a lasting, negative impact on you throughout your next life on Earth.” He leans in and actually sniffs Louis’ tupa. “But I don’t think that’s going to happen to you. You’re not even tired right now, are you, Louis?”

Louis shakes his head.

“I’m wide awake,” he answers truthfully. Louis is so awake and full of energy in fact, that he feels like running to the moon and back. He doesn’t say this to Jared though.

Jared grins and his voice is impressed when he says, “You’ve been drinking Resident coffee. I honestly don’t know how you managed, but that’s really quite a feat for an Intake, even if you only had a few sips.”

“I drank a bloody tumbler full,” Louis admits and Jared raises his eyebrows, his mouth falling open in surprise.

“You drank an entire tumbler of Resident coffee?” he marvels. “Wow. You are a determined one, aren’t you?”

“I suppose I am,” Louis answers proudly. “That coffee tasted like a sewage spill. I’ll never understand the stuff you Big Brains consume,” he adds, and then he feels a sharp pang of grief as he remembers Harry calling the Residents that very nickname when they were sipping ginormous cocktails and waiting for the Elvis concert to start. Fucking hell, he misses Harry so much.

“ _Big Brains_ ,” Jared chuckles. “That’s a good one. Listen Louis,” he says, immediately changing the subject. “Even if you drank a gallon of Resident coffee, its effects won’t last forever. The harder you push your body, the more energy you’ll use, and once that energy is expended completely, you’ll go to sleep. Just promise me that when you start to get tired, you’ll ask a Resident for help so that they can get you to your hotel or another safe space. If you’re on your own, promise me that you’ll at least find a patch of grass or someplace comfortable and out of the way to rest in, okay? Trust me when I tell you, it’s in your best interest to give in to it when you start to feel yourself going under. Don’t fight it, Louis. Do you understand?”

“I don’t know if I can promise you that,” Louis answers, unable to lie, even to ease Jared’s conscience. “I’m not going to stop until I get to where I need to be.”

Jared once again holds up his hand, as if he doesn’t want to hear any more.

“Very well, Louis,” he says. “I wish you all the luck.” He pats Louis on the shoulder and turns to leave.

“Wait!” Louis shouts and Jared once again stops, turning to face him. “I just have one last question.”

“Very well,” Jared says, nodding his head once to urge Louis to continue.

“How did you know where to find me?” Louis asks, but he’s almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Because I was _looking_ for you, Louis. I work directly for the universe and anyone who is in a position such as mine can quickly locate you, or any other Intake for that matter, if they want to actually find them. Advocates, delegates, justices… we can all observe Intakes at will, if doing so serves a greater purpose and is in the best interest of the universe, or, as was in your case, is for the good of the Intake.

Louis’ mind briefly flashes on his final Review session and the post death clip of Louis and Harry that Ileana screened. He supposes that clip, while devastating, nonetheless goes along with exactly what Jared is talking about. Especially considering that Ileana kept arguing that the reason she viewed and then showed the clip was because it was for the greater good of the universe.

“So you just wanted to know where I was and then you automatically found me?” Louis asks and he doesn’t think he’ll ever understand the way the universe works.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Jared replies. “But basically, yes. Of course, if I didn’t _know_ that I needed to be looking for you, I wouldn’t know where you were at all.”

Louis has no idea what that even means and is starting to tell Jared just as much when Jared once again raises his palm.

“I need to go now, Louis,” he says, “and so do you.”

“Thank you, Jared,” Louis offers, and he’s not even sure what he’s thanking Jared for, but he’s fairly certain that the other man went out of his way to check on him and that he no doubt took a risk by doing so.

“I wish you all the best,” Jared answers, and then he takes Louis’ hand into his own, shaking it firmly. “Safe travels, friend.”

Louis is just starting to turn around, to head back in the direction toward the train station when Jared calls out to him.

“Louis!” Jared says, his voice hushed but urgent. Louis freezes in his steps and looks to the other man.

“Yes?” he asks.

“I believe in you.”

With that, Jared turns around and walks back down the foot-pavement in the opposite direction of Louis. Louis stares stupidly for a moment, watching Jared for a few seconds before he realizes he needs to get moving. He wants to process what just happened: this strange interaction with Marcus’ partner. The fact that Jared, a virtual stranger, just told Louis that he believed in him renders Louis both confused and hopeful. But Louis also knows he doesn’t have time to ponder their interaction, and in the end, what just happened between him and Jared really doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters to Louis is seeing his soul mate: seeing Harry, one more time.

Louis turns on his heels and once again heads toward the main roadway that will lead him to Harry, his heart beating wildly in his chest at the prospect of seeing his boy before he boards that train that will take him to his future. He knows that he’s getting close to the edge of the city, the number of buildings diminishing ahead and then disappearing completely into a wide-open landscape.

He continues onward.

 

******

“I’m afraid I have some… some _not_ great news,” Rose says, walking over to the wife’s bed and standing by its side. She’s just returned from checking on when Dr. Pomatter – who hasn’t made a single appearance since the wife first arrived at hospital – will be coming in to tend to her patient. The wife knows Dr. Pomatter is busy with other deliveries; apparently half the pregnant women in South Yorkshire have gone into labor this evening and it would seem the vast majority of those women use Dr. Pomatter as their OBGYN. But still, Dr. Pomatter is _her_ doctor and the wife wants to see her right now. She’s waited more than long enough.

Sure, the wife has had excellent care since she was first checked in to the delivery suite, but her contractions are getting closer together now and the pain has gotten far more intense, almost to the point where it’s hardly bearable. She knows that before too much longer it will be time to push and she needs Dr. Pomatter to get her through this delivery.

Dr. Pomatter has a way of about her that comforts the wife, but not only that, her bedside manner is bar none. She can make the most invasive and embarrassing procedures such as Pap smears, vaginal ultrasounds, and pelvic exams comfortable and the wife knows that she’ll be a calming presence as she gives birth. Dr. Pomatter has an easy-going personality and is warm and friendly, but best of all; she’s incredibly serious about her patients and provides the finest of care.

The way she tended to the wife after the wife suffered each of her miscarriages went above and beyond what most medical professionals would provide. Not only did Dr. Pomatter spend hours with the wife at hospital, explaining to her what she did and didn’t know about what had gone wrong with her pregnancies and answering all of the wife’s questions, but she even made surprise house calls, stopping in to offer the wife wellness checks when the wife was so heartbroken she didn’t think she’d ever get out of bed again, much less leave her home.

After the wife’s second miscarriage, which, as Dr. Cooper noted, was just shy of being classified as a stillbirth, it was Dr. Pomatter who held the wife’s hand and gently, yet strongly, urged her to consider grief counseling. That recommendation set the wife on a positive road to recovery that went far beyond her physical health and actually began to heal her mental state, as well.

Before she began attending weekly meetings with a group of women who had experienced the same unexpected loss as her own, the wife felt completely alone in her grief, despite the fact that she knew her husband was also suffering the death of their child.

“ _But it’s different for you_ ,” Dr. Pomatter had contended, arguing that nobody but those who had actually lost a child they were carrying could truly understand the pain that that loss incurred. The wife was so glad to have someone who finally _understood_ that fact on her side, and who also said those words aloud to her. Dr. Pomatter validated the wife’s feelings and it meant a great deal to her. The wife had carried that baby in her womb for nearly five months, her child had already started to move about and kick, and the loss of the infant was positively crushing. Sharing that experience with others who had endured the same grief brought the wife immeasurable comfort and she was able to finally let go of the terrible depression and anguish that had been plaguing her. Those women helped her to start living again, and she’d actually ended up making a few new close friends in the process.

And it was all because of Dr. Pomatter.

Finally now, after her previous heartbreaks have long past, the wife has made it to the finish line with this pregnancy and she needs the one woman who has cared for her for nearly a decade to deliver her infant. She needs Dr. Pomatter and no one else will do.

“Dr. Pomatter _is_ coming isn’t she? I mean, of course she’ll be here, she’s delivering my baby,” the wife says, her voice both frantic and adamant as she silently wills her words to be true. She looks up to her husband, who is standing on the other side of the bed, her eyes pleading with him to do something, as if he can somehow take control over the situation. He clutches her hand and gives it another one of his reassuring squeezes and then they both turn their attention back to Rose. Peggy walks over then and the three stare at Rose like she holds the fate of the universe in her hands.

“Well,” Rose starts, her voice calm. “Unfortunately, there has been a bit of an emergency and Dr. Pomatter had to leave shift after her last delivery.”

“What?” the wife asks, her stomach dropping and a sudden burst of panic flooding her system. “What kind of accident? Is she all right?”

“She’s fine,” Rose assures. “Usually I wouldn’t share this type of information, but Dr. Pomatter said we could tell her patients. Seems her twin boys were roughhousing this evening, chasing each other about the house. Dr. Pomatter’s husband was trying to wrangle them for their bath, but they’re quite rambunctious boys, only seven-year-old. Anyway, one of them ran smack into the corner of the fireplace. Poor dear split his head open, had to have fifteen stitches and suffered a mild concussion. She went home to tend to him.”

“I… that’s terrible,” the wife mutters, and it is. Yet the wife can’t help but feel a little bit… _angry_ that this happened in the first place. _How could the children have just been allowed to run through the house? Why wasn’t Dr. Pomatter’s husband more careful?_

The wife knows she’s being ridiculous by entertaining such thoughts; accidents happen and surely this one was harrowing for both Dr. Pomatter’s husband and their young son. But now Dr. Pomatter has left the hospital and the wife is faced with the devastating reality that the doctor she’s come to rely on over all others through the years is not going to be there to deliver her baby.

 _It’s not fair_.

“Dr. Cooper is going to stay on and tend to Dr. Pomatter’s patients,” Rose offers, interrupting the wife’s thoughts. “Dr. Rice is out of town, but there are two other doctors from outside practices on-call this evening, and they’ve also both agreed to lend a hand if need be.”

“Dr. Cooper?” the wife questions, and she can hardly control the horror in her voice. “I don’t want _that_ man delivering my baby.”

“But Dr. Cooper is the founding member of Dr. Pomatter’s practice,” Peggy reasons, attempting to soften the blow. “Plus, he’s an excellent physician. One of the best, actually.”

“He might be an excellent physician,” the wife counters, “but he’s also cold and uncaring and I don’t want him.”

“Jess,” the husband interjects. “Peggy is right. At least you know Dr. Cooper. You’ve seen him on more than one occasion and you know what to expect. You might actually feel more comfortable having him care for you over a total stranger.”

The wife shoots her husband a look that tells him she wholly disagrees with his assessment. He lets out a defeated sigh in response.

“I don’t care,” the wife pouts. “I don’t like Dr. Cooper and I don’t want him delivering my baby!”

“You don’t have to like me,” comes a voice from the entrance of the birthing suite. The wife, the husband, and the two nurses immediately snap their heads in the direction of the voice, and the wife feels like all of her blood is instantly draining from her body, save for that which is rushing to her face, coloring her cheeks a bright crimson, the flush quickly traveling down her chest and neck. It’s one thing not to _like_ Dr. Cooper, but it’s wholly another to voice that opinion out loud and within earshot of the man. She’s completely mortified.

Dr. Cooper walks over to the wife’s bedside and surveys all who are congregated there. The husband wraps his free arm behind the wife’s back, his other hand still holding on to her own. He gently squeezes her hip and leans in, pressing a kiss to her temple to comfort her. Peggy turns and walks to the fetal heart rate monitor, fleeing the situation entirely, while Rose and the wife both stare at the doctor, their faces frozen in embarrassment.

Dr. Cooper lets out a heavy sigh, but it’s almost like he’s more amused than annoyed and that only serves to exacerbate the wife irritation; she’s not going to be _patronized_ by Dr. Cooper, after all.

“I’m s-sorry,” the wife stammers. “That was rude and I – ”

Dr. Cooper holds up his hand to silence her. The wife blushes harder and she’s certain she’s now beet red. She doesn’t appreciate being shut down when she’s trying to apologize, especially by the smug man who stands before her.

“You don’t need to apologize, Mrs. Smith.” Dr. Cooper replies, his voice even, his expression neutral. “I know that I’m not everyone’s… cup of tea, but I don’t need to be. I’m the best in my field and that’s more important to me than being liked.”

“Oh… well, I’m sure you’re a very fine doctor,” the wife starts, but Dr. Cooper doesn’t let her finish her sentence.

“I am,” he agrees simply. The wife feels anger in the pit of her belly because how dare this man not let her at least finish her apology? She purses her lips and by the soft fingertips once again nudging her hip, the wife knows her husband is trying to calm her down. She’s certain she looks positively furious.

Dr. Cooper studies the wife carefully for a moment and then he continues speaking. “Do you know that I specialize in high-risk pregnancies _and_ in high-risk deliveries, Mrs. Smith? Given your history, it would have been in your best interest to have had me serve as your primary physician all along.”

“I’ve always seen Dr. Pomatter,” the wife replies, her tone clipped. “ _She’s_ my primary doctor.”

“I understand that, and she’s an excellent physician. But she’s not here right now, is she? There are two other doctors on call, and if you’d prefer to see one of them, that can be easily arranged. But I’m the most experienced and the most skilled physician on this floor and if I were you, I would want nothing less than the best when it came to bringing my child into this world. Of course, I’m not going to _beg_ you to allow me to deliver your infant.”

“Oh… well…” the wife mutters, completely dumbfounded. Dr. Cooper is so unbelievably arrogant, and yet, the wife suddenly finds herself strangely drawn to his confidence. She realizes with a sour resignation that she’d rather have a doctor who is certain of what he’s capable of, regardless of his lousy personality, than an affable stranger who might be lacking in Dr. Cooper’s years of experience and skill during this, the most important moment in her life.

Dr. Cooper looks back and forth between the wife and the husband and then over to the wife’s bedside table, which still holds a plate of the massive cupcakes that were a patient gift to Dr. Pomatter. He huffs an ironic little laugh. “I’m not warm and cuddly, Mrs. Smith. My patients don’t send me flowers, or cards, or _cupcakes_ ,” he adds pointedly, “and I really couldn’t care less. I’m not here to become _BFF’s_ with my patients.” Dr. Cooper’s tone is colored with both arrogance and sarcasm, but the wife is finding herself increasingly appreciative of his honesty. At least Dr. Cooper _knows_ he’s not a friendly person. He’s not trying to sell her on some bogus idea that he’s a huggable ball of sunshine, or even that he’s a nice person. Further, Dr. Cooper didn’t make the wife feel guilty or embarrass her for saying she didn’t like him. In fact, that little jab didn’t seem to bother him at all and that alone is almost… _encouraging_.

 _Maybe he’s not completely horrible_ , she thinks to herself.

“I bring children into this world,” Dr. Cooper continues. “ _Healthy_ children. That’s all I care about, really. So if you want a doctor who will hold your hand and mollycoddle you, then you should probably ask for one of the other physicians on call, they’re both quite capable doctors with more… _affable_ bedside manners. However, if your main priority is delivering a healthy baby, then I suggest you stick with me.”

“I’ll stick with you,” the wife replies without skipping a beat, her voice sure. The husband and Rose turn their heads to look at her, the shock at her sudden change in attitude evident on both of their faces. The wife just gives a half-hearted smile and shrugs her shoulders.

Something about Dr. Cooper’s utter confidence has resonated with her and despite her discomfort with his detached bedside manner, if she can’t have Dr. Pomatter she’d rather have a seasoned doctor like Dr. Cooper whose only priority is the child she carries in her womb over someone who is unknown to her and possibly less experienced, any day of the week. She’s already lost two pregnancies, delivering a healthy child will be more than worth the cost of dealing with this unpleasant man for the next few hours.

“Really, Jess?” the husband asks. He lowers his voice and leans in close. “You’ve been pretty adamant all evening that you didn’t want Dr. Cooper tending to you, even _before_ we found out that Dr. Pomatter had to leave,” he says, and although he’s obviously trying to keep his voice down, everyone in the room can hear him quite clearly. He cringes when the realization hits him and he looks at Dr. Cooper and sheepishly adds, “No offence, Dr. Cooper… We… erm… my wife just –”

For the second time during this brief exchange, Dr. Cooper holds up his hand, this time quieting the husband, but in doing so, he’s also sparing him the awkward task of explaining himself and the wife is actually grateful. Dr. Cooper turns his attention back to her.

“You’re certain you don’t want to call one of the other physicians on duty?” he asks. Without hesitation the wife nods her head.

“I’m certain,” she answers.

“Good,” Dr. Cooper replies. “You’ve made the right decision.” He looks over at Rose and his voice only sounds a little oft-put when he says, “Let’s check her cervix, again. Hopefully this delivery will start moving along.”

 

******

It’s not that George Barlow doesn’t trust his coworkers.

In fact, the very opposite is true. Without a doubt, George knows that the members of The Regency staff are some of the finest Residents in Judgment City. Of course, _all_ the Residents of Judgment City are upstanding people; they wouldn’t be Residents if they lacked integrity or didn’t naturally adhere to principled practices. Most importantly, the people who work and reside in Judgment City all abide by an oath that they will uphold the probity of the universe above all else, and that oath is one of the predominant reasons that the Afterlife is both a harmonious and joyous place, and also why it runs so smoothly.

The Afterlife would be nothing without a comfortably ingrained moral compass and since that compass has been intact since the dawn of time, it’s a very good place indeed.

George understands that every Resident in Judgment City is here for the purely selfless reason of wanting to help others and that all who work here act in the best interest of the universe. Doing so comes naturally for each and every one of them. Residents don’t lie, cheat, steal, or cause harm. They are purposed solely to do good and to act in a way that is right, and George trusts his fellow employees beyond measure.

But still…

There was something about Donald McCafferty’s behavior this evening that has George a little concerned. George has been friends with Donald for decades and he knows that Donald is as good a man as they come. He’s kind, compassionate, and excels at his duties at The Regency. George considers those Intakes that are assigned under Donald’s care to be some of the luckiest of the lot, because Donald goes above and beyond to make sure all of his charges’ every need is anticipated and served. Donald doesn’t have much of a social life outside of his work, instead preferring to dedicate himself fully to the men and women he’s tasked with looking after during the course of their Reviews. He is an honorable man and George Barlow has no doubt that he would never lie or do anything to disrupt the workings of the universe.

“But that answer he gave tonight,” George mumbles to himself as he approaches the door to Room 1210, the fifth of the seven rooms on Donald’s Returning Intake list.

George had already planned on doing an inspection of Returning Intake suites this evening. He does these inspections every few days as a means of ensuring that the protocol for the handling of Returning Intakes is running smoothly and in accordance to universal guidelines. Rooms are selected randomly, but these routine checks allow him to make sure that those who must return to Earth are treated in a uniform manner, with all Returning Intakes safely tucked into their beds or another comparable space, and each made completely comfortable for their transitions.

Tonight, George has decided to go a bit beyond the standard inspection process and in addition to the thirty rooms that were randomly selected by the computer program he uses for such a purpose, George is choosing to inspect _all_ of the rooms on Donald’s roster.

He quietly knocks on the door to Room 1210, although he suspects that if the room’s inhabitant is still in this realm, they are no doubt in a deep sleep state. When there is no answer, George inserts his universal key card into the lock and turns the handle, opening the door. He’s barely stepped into the room’s entranceway when he hears the Returning Intake snoring loudly, and George smiles at the sound because the Intake is obviously completely relaxed and has begun their journey to a peaceful transition back to Earth. George tiptoes down the little hallway that leads into the main room, not that he needs to be quiet really; once a Returning Intake goes fully under they’re practically dead to the world.

 _Dead to the world_ , George thinks and then he chuckles softly at the irony of that little sentiment.

He sneaks his head around the corner and although the room is dark, his eyes scan over the bed and sure enough, he can make out the form of a Returning Intake, burrowed deep beneath their covers and sleeping peacefully.

George backtracks then, heading down the little hallway and then exiting the room to the main corridor. He looks at the next name on his list and it belongs to a Louis Tomlinson, Room 1215. While George makes a point of knowing all of the names of the hotel guests, the name, “Louis Tomlinson” is ringing a bell for another reason, but George can’t quite figure out why. He goes directly to Mr. Tomlinson’s suite.

As was the case with the past six rooms George has visited, and will most likely prove to be true with the rest of the rooms on his inspection list, there is no answer when George knocks on the door to Mr. Tomlinson’s room. George slides his keycard into the lock and opens the door, quietly stepping inside. The first thing he notices is that unlike the last room he visited, there is no sound of a snoring Intake to be heard. In fact, George doesn’t even detect the sound of breathing and he suspects that the Intake who resided in this suite has already transitioned.

George walks down the small hallway and enters the main living area and sure enough, the Intake’s bed is empty. He flips on the light on the nightstand and surveys the rumpled sheets, the bed clearly having been slept in, even if only briefly.

The fact that Mr. Tomlinson already transitioned is hardly unusual. Typically, when George completes these inspections nearly half the Returning Intake rooms he visits are no longer occupied; their former tenants already delivered of this realm and well on their way to being reborn into a new life on Earth. But _this_ room was occupied by one of Donald’s Intakes, and after Donald’s odd behavior during the final check-in this evening, George wants to make sure everything is in order.

“Louis Tomlinson,” George says aloud, scratching his chin. He notices the open box of chocolates on the nightstand, a single piece missing, and then he briefly studies the pillow at the head of the bed, its surface indented and clearly recently used.

“Louis Tomlinson,” George repeats and then suddenly he remembers why that name sounds so familiar. Patrick, one of the hotel concierges, happened to mention to George last night that Donald was having dinner with an Intake that evening and that that Intake’s name was ‘Louis’. There is only one Intake currently registered at The Regency that goes by the name of Louis, so surely this room was resided by that same person.

Yesterday was Donald’s anniversary and George knew what a difficult day it always was for Donald, so he had suggested to a couple members of the staff that they should invite Donald out to dinner to help take his mind off things. That’s when Patrick said he’d overheard Donald talking to an Intake and that they were making dinner plans. George and the others were happy that Donald already had something scheduled. He had even reasoned that it might actually be _good_ for Donald to have an evening out with a new friend, especially if that friend didn’t know the significance of the day or about the sad loss of Donald’s soul mate. Honestly, for those who know him, Donald’s anniversary is like an annual elephant in the room; it’s a topic that is both terrible and tragic and it is just as awkward mentioning the date as it leaving the topic alone. Once a year on that sad day, Donald has to deal with everyone who knows him treating him with kid gloves and that in itself has to be a horrible reminder of what he’s going through. An Intake would have no idea about Donald’s heartbreak and thus could treat him normally; they could interact with Donald without trying to hide a sympathetic look or bothering him about his mental state. That fact alone would surely be a great relief to a man who has already suffered so much. George’s only hope when he found out about Donald’s evening plans was that Donald would have a peaceful and pleasant evening with his new friend.

Obviously, Donald must have thought a lot of this man if he agreed to having dinner with him in the first place, particularly since Residents tend to maintain more of a professional relationship with Intakes until that Intake has formally advanced. Certainly, Residents are courteous and helpful to those under their care, and many enjoy casual friendships with the Intakes they meet during their Review periods. But the reality is that it can hurt to make a new friend and then watch helplessly as that friend fails a Review and is sent back to Earth. That’s the man reason why it’s wise to keep a bit of a… _distance_ when forming a relationship with the newly dead, and most Residents tend to do just that. Donald is certainly no exception to this rule.

“But he made a friend with this Louis chap,” George mumbles and no wonder Donald was a bit off tonight; he opened himself up to a friendship with an Intake and that Intake was ordered to return to Earth. And the very day after Donald’s anniversary! Donald surely was sad to see his friend go; he’s such a caring man, after all.

George squints his eyes, once again looking over the bed. He stares at the mussed up sheets and blankets and something niggles at the back of his mind. Something seems off and he can’t quite put his finger on exactly what that _thing_ is. The bed appears to be in order… well, disorder, actually and maybe George is just imagining it because the bed looks like any other that’s been occupied by a body that transitioned from death to a new life on Earth.

He reaches over and shuts off the bedside lamp, deciding to let it go. But first, he wants to check on one more thing. He leaves the living area and walks down the hallway to the en suite, flipping on the bathroom light. There’s a rumpled hand towel on the counter and given the ripped edge of the tissue that hangs on a mounted roll beside the toilet, its obvious that the facilities have also been used. Everything is exactly how it should be.

He blows out a heavy sigh of relief. Honestly, how could he even consider that Donald would fail to properly fulfill his duties? He feels angry with himself for even having contemplating such a thought. He switches off the bathroom light and walks down the hallway to the main door of the suite. He has his hand on the doorknob and is just starting to turn it to open the door and make his exit when it hits him.

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters, just as that unnamed _thing_ that was bothering him comes into focus. “His clothing.”

George turns around and beelines back down the hallway, going directly to the en suite and once again flipping on the light switch. He stands in front of the hamper and for a moment he hesitates, hoping that he’s wrong in his assumptions. He slowly opens the lid and lets out an exasperated breath, his suspicions proven right.

The hamper is empty.

The majority of Intakes adhere to the habits they formed on Earth and one of those earthly habits shared by most is that people tend to get undressed before climbing into bed. Of course, countless Intakes are so exhausted when they arrive back at their rooms that they are unable to perform this simple task before beginning their final sleep of death. But in those cases, their clothing is left behind in the sheets when they cross over. After all, when a soul transitions, it doesn’t take its tupa and pants with it when it goes. George doesn’t recall seeing any clothing in Louis’ bed, but he wasn’t looking for it either. Maybe Louis stripped off his tupa and it’s on the floor somewhere. Maybe his pants are in a ball at the foot of his mattress. George hopes so, because Louis did not enter this suite tonight naked and if he transitioned – as the state of his bed would indicate – then his garments should be somewhere in this room.

But they’re not.

George pulls back the covers of the bed and separates the sheets from the duvet and there isn’t a tupa or pair of pants in sight. Those simple garments aren’t on the floor either and they haven’t been kicked underneath the bed or are tossed carelessly over the back of the couch. George shakes his head and rushes back to the en suite, because maybe Mr. Tomlinson’s garments were chucked behind the bathroom door or beneath the counter. Maybe he somehow missed seeing them when he looked into the hamper.

Once again, there is no clothing to be found. Anywhere.

George leans over the bathroom counter, contemplating where the Returning Intake’s clothing could be and wracking his brain for an explanation that would exonerate Donald, because Donald stated clearly that all of his Intakes were checked into their rooms.

“Except, he didn’t say that,” George says out loud, staring at his own reflection in the mirror. Donald McCafferty didn’t say those words at all. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, George catches sight of something on one of the shelves at the side of the vanity. It’s a comb, haphazardly placed amongst the various grooming supplies, its handle sticking out over the lip of the shelf in a sloppy manner that is uncharacteristic of the pristine housekeeping skills of The Regency staff.

“Maybe Mr. Tomlinson used the comb before he went to sleep,” George reasons, but he knows in his gut that if Mr. Tomlinson used that comb it would mean that he was in the bathroom and if he was in the bathroom or in the main room at all when he transitioned then his tupa and pants would be there too, providing evidence of that fact.

Not to mention his shoes.

“Shit.”

George Barlow knows he didn’t see a pair of Intake shoes anywhere on the floor of the suite.

“This can’t be happening,” George sighs and he doesn’t even care that he’s starting to have a full-on conversation with himself. He slowly reaches for the handle of the comb that sits lopsided on the vanity shelf and he draws it in front of his face to examine it more closely. His eyes fall shut momentarily when he sees a strand of hair tangled between the comb’s tines and with his free hand, he tugs gently, pulling the strand loose. It’s a blonde hair, medium-length and sticky with product. George Barlow uses forty-three percent of his brain and his skills of recognition are bar none. He knows without a doubt, that that hair belongs to Donald McCafferty.

“Oh Donald,” George whispers, shaking his head. “What have you done?”

George sets the comb down on the countertop and walks back into the main room, sitting on the edge of bed and contemplating what to do next, staring at the telephone that sits on the nightstand. George _knows_ what he has to do; he took an oath to the universe and he can’t just overlook the fact that an Intake under his care is missing. For all George knows, Mr. Tomlinson might be in a ditch somewhere confused, or maybe even hurt. He could be transitioning in the middle of the foot-pavement or out on the street, terrified of what’s happening to him or fighting crossing over. If Mr. Tomlinson doesn’t let go when his body starts to go under, it could be very traumatic for him: both in how he ends his death and more so, in how he begins his next life. He thinks about what Donald actually said when asked about his Returning Intakes during this evening’s final check-in.

“All of the Returning Intakes under my charge are fully accounted for and right where they need to be,” George says, repeating Donald’s words from earlier, verbatim.

Residents don’t lie, so if Donald said that his Intakes were fully accounted for, that means that he knows the whereabouts of each and every Returning Intake under his care. But it’s the second part of Donald’s answer that is really resonating with George: the part where Donald stated that his Returning Intakes were “right where they need to be.”

Donald wouldn’t have claimed all of his Intakes were where they should be if he didn’t believe it to be true. He knows where Mr. Tomlinson is and it’s some place where Donald thinks he belongs, but where in bloody hell could that place be?

“Shit.”

George is in a terrible position. He trusts Donald implicitly. If Donald is for some reason helping Mr. Tomlinson, then he’s doing so for reasons he deems to be honorable. George’s mind flashes on the way that Donald rushed out of the hotel after check-in was complete and how George had the distinct feeling in that moment that Donald was avoiding him. Now he knows that Donald was doing just that, and he also knows the reason why. Donald would never lie to George, but he obviously had something to hide and that something was Louis Tomlinson’s whereabouts. It was no doubt better for Donald not to talk to George at all, rather than risk having to give up his secret by honestly answering some innocuous question George may have posed to him. And again, George knows that Donald is acting in a way that he believes is right, but the fact of the matter is, Donald’s good intentions don’t supersede the oath that George Barlow made to the universe. George simply can’t overlook that fact, even if it means undoing whatever Donald has set in motion.

“The universe would falter if Residents just did whatever they pleased and ignored the rules of the Afterlife when they saw fit. There are guidelines and oaths in place for a reason,” George says, his voice argumentative, even though the only person he’s arguing with his himself. He scrubs his hands over his face and shakes his head, angry with himself for what he’s about to do and also irritated with Donald for getting him into this mess. He picks up the telephone handset and then reluctantly, punches a series of three numbers. The phone on the other end of the line rings only once before a female answers.

“This is George Barlow from The Regency hotel,” George says into the handset. He’s trying to control his voice, trying to make it seem like he’s calm, but he knows he sounds agitated and upset. “We’ve got a Returning Intake who’s… gone rogue.”

 

******

Louis reaches the last leg of the twelve-block stretch that leads to the edge of Judgment City, and just as Ed had promised, the city abruptly comes to an end on that final block, disappearing into a vast open landscape of lush rolling hills and valleys to the west, while to the east, the ground slopes downward into a gentle drop-off that leads to a pebbled covered beach.

The evening has now settled fully and the sky is nearly black, just the hint of indigo blue threads breaking the vast expanse over the countryside. But the stars are shining and the moon is full and it casts a soft glow over the hilltops, dipping into the valleys and leaving a shimmering trail that stretches over the landscape and illuminates the lapping water of the sea as it rolls back and forth against the shore. Louis doesn’t think he’s ever seen a nighttime landscape so beautiful before, but he nonetheless wants to take a final look at where he’s come from, so he turns around and surveys the city one last time.

The Review Center is by far the tallest building in Judgment City and its surface reflects the glimmering moonlight, a mirrored image of what stretches out behind Louis emblazoned on its shiny facade. The surrounding buildings with their contrasting architecture all lend themselves to the nightscape and even though it’s a community purposed solely to serve the dead, Judgment City is alive and bustling with activity, the quiet residential backstreet Louis was walking on having given way to a restaurant district rife with eateries and various clubs that spill music onto this charming city street that extends to the very edge of town. There are Intakes and Residents everywhere and as Louis takes one last look about, he tries to keep his head down, tries to remain inconspicuous because the last thing he wants is to be noticed. He can’t help but feel a momentary pang of melancholy as he silently says goodbye to the city; he’s going to miss all of it so much.

 _Except_ … He won’t miss any of it, actually. He won’t miss anything at all because come tomorrow, his mind will be erased and he’ll be a blank slate starting life all over again from scratch.

“I don’t want to be a newborn baby,” Louis mutters to himself and he turns away from the city, the city that brought him his soul mate, and he heads west, just as Ed directed. He has two more blocks to travel before he reaches the open road and if he wants to give Harry a final kiss goodbye and tell him he loves him one last time before he takes his last sleep of death, he needs to move quickly. Louis cannot waste any more time feeling sorry for himself.

He walks at a frantic pace, his feet pounding on the pavement as he dodges in and out of Intakes and Residents that stroll past him as he makes his way. By the time Louis reaches the second block of the two-block stretch, the foot traffic has drastically decreased and the street is relatively quiet. He can see the end of the block and the turn off onto the main road that leads to the train station and he doesn’t want to waste another second. He surveys his surroundings and when he’s sure that the street is nearly empty he sets a pace that is just short of a jog, covering the last block in under a minute.

And then he’s there: standing at the precipice of the blacktop road that leads to the train station: the path that will take him to Harry. The roadway is wide; it’s at least the equivalent of the four-lane motorways found on Earth. As Louis suspected, there are no streetlamps to illuminate the roadway and he can only see ahead a few dozen meters before the road seemingly disappears into the night sky and undulating landscape.

Louis looks to his right and then to his left; there are no pedestrians on the corner where he stands and the road ahead is quiet, not a tram in sight. He steps out onto the blacktop, heading across the pavement to the furthermost eastern side of the road so that he’ll be traveling along the left side of the pavement and walking in the direction of traffic.

Strangely enough, this solitary stretch of road seems like an entirely different world from the huge, bustling city that is literally just a few meters away. It’s as if the street on which Louis just walked the last two blocks is a hard dividing line and everything on one side of that line is a pure, vibrant city sparkling with bright lights and activity, music, laughter, food, and most importantly, a community of kind and generous people. Yet, everything on the opposite side of that line is the peaceful calm of a rural, coastal countryside. The land that stretches out before him almost seems untouched and uncharted and it’s so unbelievably… _quiet_. Louis has literally just walked across the street and the sounds and colors of Judgment City behind him already seem muted and distant. He can actually hear crickets chirping and as he breathes in the tangy sea air, he takes in the smell of rich green grass and fresh flowers, the combination of the land and the sea nearly intoxicating. It’s unbelievable really, and if he had more time to think about it, he could probably stand here all day and contemplate the abrupt change in both the environment and the atmosphere. Hell, he’d probably run back and forth across the street, just to experience the black and white difference between city and country, country and city, again and again.

But Louis doesn’t have time for any of that. He’s got to get moving. But first, he stands on the blacktop and takes a moment to prepare himself for his run. Louis would never have engaged in any form of serious exercise on Earth without first properly stretching and warming up his muscles, but he knows he doesn’t have time to give his body the complete care it needs right now. So instead, he does a few squats and then stretches his right leg muscle by picking up his ankle and lifting his leg behind his back, extending his left arm for balance. He then repeats the process with his left leg, the movement causing a pain to shoot through his injured shin, but Louis ignores the ache and focuses on stretching his arms in front of his chest. He then clasps his hands together and inverts them, slowly raising his arms over his head and then shifting his hips from side to side. He lifts his tupa skirt and looks at his feet. He doesn’t have on socks and the simple shoes that he’s wearing, while comfortable, are hardly appropriate for running. They’re the equivalent of the slip-on Vans he wore on Earth and they have very little padding, the soles nothing more than flat strips of rubber with only a light tread, hardly enough to absorb the shock of his feet pounding on the pavement.

“It is what it is,” he mumbles. He’s about to embark on the most important run of his existence and he’s doing so while wearing a dress with a skirt that extends all the way to his ankles and a pair of barely-there flats on his feet.

_What could possibly go wrong?_

Louis huffs an ironic, little laugh. At least he still has his sense of humor.

He takes a deep breath and looks at his watch, his eyes going wide when he realizes it’s already been nearly thirty minutes since he left Ed at the Review Center. For the fourteen blocks he walked from the Western Courtyard to this very spot, Louis moved as quickly as feasibly possible without drawing attention to himself and under normal circumstances, covering such a great distance in so little time would be quite a feat. But these aren’t normal circumstances. Ed told Louis that Harry’s orientation would be over within the hour. That means, if Louis wants to beat Harry’s tram to the train station, he’s going to need to run at the approximate rate of… _just over four minutes per kilometer_.

“Christ,” Louis mumbles. He lets out a heavy sigh.

Aside from being dead, Louis is in great physical shape and a four-minute kilometer would typically be a reasonable pace for him. Louis easily ran at that speed when training for footie or the occasional 10K run that Liam would sometimes talk him into joining when he was still on Earth. Louis is athletic and he’s used to pushing his body. Further, he jogged or ran nearly every day when he was alive. But still, tonight’s run will be wholly different. Louis won’t be running on a firm pitch covered in thick grass, or on a flat, brightly lit track, or even through the familiar terrain of his London neighborhood. Louis will be traveling on a dark road in the middle of the Afterlife dressed in cumbersome clothing and inappropriate footwear that will only hinder his movements. Not to mention the fact that he’s starting to get very hungry which tends to weaken him when he’s exercising, his stomach growling loudly to remind him of such.

“But at the end of the run, I’ll see Harry,” Louis states out loud and that’s the only motivation he needs. _Fucking hell, I can do this_ , he thinks to himself.

And then Louis Tomlinson sets off.

He starts off at a fairly slow pace, no more than a light jog in an attempt to be gentle on his body so that his muscles might warm up a bit more before he really starts to pound the pavement; he doesn’t need to risk sustaining an injury at the start that will impede his trek. He sticks to the edge of the road, avoiding the thin trail of gravel that runs along its side, each foot barely hitting the ground as he speeds ahead, his movements both lithe and steady.

It feels so good to be running.

Finally, Louis is able to expend some of the energy that has been zipping through his body at a breakneck pace due to the Resident coffee he consumed in the courtyard. He feels like he’s been unleashed from chains that were holding him back and dragging him down, his body propelling itself forward almost without his consent, his need to move overwhelming him. He was so keyed-up on his walk to this open road that he was sure that at any moment he would explode right out of his skin. And now, with each strike of his right and left foot on the blacktop, Louis’ releases a little bit of the tension that was coiled so tightly in his gut. His hands are relaxed into light fists, his arms bent comfortably at his sides. He feels free.

Best of all, the road is open and empty and Louis can let go of some of his fear that a Resident might spot him on his journey and suspect that he’s on the lamb. Sure, he needs to keep an eye out for any Residents who might live in the area and while he knows he hasn’t travelled very far, he has yet to pass any cottages or farms like he saw during the tram ride out to Shepherdshire. He hasn’t spotted any trams either, although he more than likely will before the night is over.

It was difficult maintaining a reasonable pace when he was traveling the fourteen blocks from the Review Center. Especially considering that in his overly-caffeinated state, Louis was positively desperate to _fly_ across the pavement. Instead, Louis had to actually _walk_ most of the way, and worst of all, he had to try and stay completely inconspicuous while doing so. But now, Louis doesn’t need to control his speed at all. The wide-open roadway that stretches out before him is completely devoid of pedestrians, both of the Resident and the Intake variety. Louis smiles at the realization, picking up his pace a bit, confidant that his muscles are beginning to warm up.

Of course, his tupa isn’t making things particularly easy, the long fabric of his skirt wrapping around his legs as he strides ahead, impeding his movements. For a moment, Louis contemplates removing the garment and just running in his pants, but he can’t very well show up at the train station in his underwear. A thought flashes through his mind and he can’t believe he is actually entertaining it, but the fact of the matter is, Louis wishes he were wearing his footie tupa. The garment might be ridiculous and practically devoid of coverage, but it’s so incredibly comfortable and Louis never moved so freely on a footie pitch or anywhere else for that matter, as he did when he was dressed in that absurd little porn star kit. Louis felt like he could run at the speed of light in that uniform and he has a feeling that if he was sporting it now he could run not just a four, but even a three-minute kilometer with little effort.

 _Plus, Harry fucking loved me in that kit_ , Louis thinks to himself.

Louis might have enjoyed unrestricted movement on the turf at Shepherdshire when he was dressed in that footie kit, but when those little green booty shorts were wrapped around his spread calves and Harry was worshipping every inch of his body, Louis could barely move at all and he enjoyed that even more.

 _Fuck_.

For a moment, Louis remembers Harry’s reaction when he first opened his eyes and saw Louis standing there, posed sexily in the tight green shorts and fitted tupa top. Just the way that Harry looked at Louis almost made Louis come on the spot. He’d never felt so sexy or desired as when Harry was circling him ferally, running his hands over Louis’ arse and then sliding his finger into his shorts to press up against his rim as he pulled him close to his own body. And when Harry was taking him apart with his fingers and his tongue and the slow, filthy words he hummed in Louis’ ear…. Well.

_“You’re so tight, so fucking soft, Lou.”_

How did Louis ever get so lucky?

 _Focus on the road, Tommo_ , Louis thinks to himself. The last thing he can afford to do is get a hard-on while he’s running to the train station. But Jesus, even when he’s so heartbroken he feels like he might break in two, just the thought of Harry’s warm eyes, soft lips, and sweet words fill Louis with so much desire it threatens to bubble over. Harry just has an effect on Louis. He’s everything really, and Louis cannot wait to see his face, just once more.

But for now, Louis needs to concentrate on this final stretch of his journey.

_Focus on the road._

Louis does just that, reminding himself once again how good it feels to run. In spite of Louis’ unwieldy tupa skirt and the ever-increasing ache in his shin, the freedom Louis experiences as he glides over the blacktop toward the train station where his soul mate will soon be waiting for the train that will carry him to his future, far outweighs the inconveniences caused by his garment or the pain in his leg. Just the thought of seeing Harry’s face causes Louis to break out in a huge grin; he can feel the crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes, his heart light as he imagines catching sight of his beautiful boy again.

He doesn’t allow himself to consider that if he’s lucky, he’ll only have a minute or so with Harry, if that. The only thing that matters to Louis is the thought of kissing those raspberry lips one more time, of seeing the sparkle in Harry’s green eyes, of pressing his thumb into the dip of his lover’s perfect dimple. He just wants to twine his fingers with Harry’s again and feel that soft skin under his own; to hear the slow, deep voice that makes his heart beat faster in his chest.

 _Like warm syrup being poured from a pitcher: thick and slow and delicious_.

Louis starts to run faster, the wind rushing over his body as his mind races back to the moment he first heard Harry’s voice in their advocates’ offices. He thinks about the way Harry turned around to find a seat in the little waiting area and how his eyes locked with Louis’, the way that Louis knew in that moment that he was completely done for.

“I saw you and I fell in love,” Louis pants out and his heart surges in his chest as a realization hits him with such a force that he almost trips on the pavement. In this very moment, Louis knows with certainty that when he’s sent back to Earth he won’t fall in love again. It doesn’t matter if the person he is reborn to be lives to a ripe old age; there will be no romantic interest for the man or woman that once walked the Earth as Louis Tomlinson. Regardless of what Marcus, or Donald, or Mitchell, or anyone else for that matter has told Louis about his mind being erased when he’s reborn or how his new life will be a blank slate where anything is possible, the person that was once Louis will never be in love with anyone other than Harry. The very idea is absurd, impossible even. Louis’ heart belongs to Harry and he’s never going share that heart with anyone else, even if it takes him ten more lifetimes to return to his soul mate.

God, their situation is so miserable.

“This love doesn’t end!” Louis shouts to the wind. He begins to run faster. The road ahead is dark, but the moon is shining brightly in the sky and as long as he keeps his eyes trained on the path directly ahead, Louis can see where he’s going. The air is crisp, just the slightest bite of salt from the sea to the east, the smell of the lush grass from the hills and the valleys to the west also inundating Louis’ senses and filling him with a sense of calm. It’s strange really, although Louis’ feet are rapidly moving across the blacktop, he’s starting to feel… _relaxed_.

Louis looks to his right. The land to the immediate far side of the road is flat, but after a few dozen meters, it starts to give way to the rolling hillside. The grass is so thick, and Louis can make out patches of flowers, their fragrant scent hanging pleasantly in the air and Louis’ mind flashes to a memory of when he was a little boy, nestled on the couch in the sitting room of his family home watching _The Wizard of Oz_ with Lottie, who was barely a toddler at the time, the volume on the television turned up high to blot out the sound of his mother and stepfather having one of their “loud discussions” in the kitchen.

“Poppies,” the Wicked Witch had spoken into her crystal ball, a flying monkey sitting on his haunches beside her. “Poppies will make them sleep.”

Lottie had thrown herself onto Louis’ lap then, burrowing her face into his shoulder and hugging him tightly. She was terrified of both the Wicked Witch and the flying monkeys, but she nonetheless loved the film and often begged Louis to sit and watch it with her. Louis couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old himself, but he was already his sister’s protector, a role that would only expand as more siblings were added to their family.

“Poppies,” Louis mumbles as he passes a huge patch of wildflowers that abut up to the eastern edge of the road where he’s running. Even though it’s dark out, Louis can tell that the flowers are bright red and orange, the colorful patch having seemingly sprung up from nowhere and now stretching alongside the pavement as far as his eye can see. He thinks of Lottie, clinging to him, her pudgy hands gripping his neck with all her might as she pleads for him to tell her when the “bad green lady has gone away.”

“She’s gone now, love,” Louis had always whispered when the Witch finally faded into the background as Dorothy, the Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion, and Toto, all ran across the poppy field toward Emerald City. Their movements were so quick and happy, but then the spell the Wicked Witch cast finally took hold and one by one the mortal members of their crew collapsed into the colorful flower field and went to sleep, the Scarecrow and Tin Man trying desperately to awaken them.

 _Poppies will make them sleep_.

Without warning, it overtakes Louis: a slow moving wave of exhaustion that rolls over him, catching him off guard and causing his footsteps to momentarily falter. He quickly recovers his pace before he even registers what’s happening, but in that instant, Louis imagines what it would be like to stop his run and lay down in the bed of flowers by the roadside. They look so lush and inviting and Louis thinks that it would be heaven to curl up amongst the thick stems and soft leaves, to be lulled to sleep beneath the fragrant petals.

God he’s tired. Sleep sounds so appealing right now.

Louis eyes pop open wide.

“What the fuck?” he practically shouts. He looks at his wristwatch and he’s only been running a few minutes. How could he possibly be getting tired already? He drank an entire tumbler of that Resident sewage and it doesn’t seem right that he should be feeling the pull of sleep so soon.

But then Louis remembers Ed’s warning that the more energy Louis expended, the quicker the effects of the coffee would wear off, and while he may be getting tired, Louis can’t afford to slow his pace. If he does so, he might not make it to the train station on time. The best that Louis can hope for is to outrun the sleep that is chasing him; he’s not about to just give up or throw in the towel without pushing himself to the very end.

He draws in a deep breath and then another, his feet never slowing, his strides remaining steady and quick. He needs to stay alert and he realizes that he may need to take unpleasant measures to do so.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, but he raises his hand nonetheless and for a moment he looks at it, his fingers slightly stretched, his palm curved. And then he does it: Louis pulls back his hand away from his body and then drives it back in, slapping his right cheek. Hard. The sting of his hand as his palm strikes the soft skin of his face startles him and as he pulls his hand away, his cheek tingles. So does his hand. But he feels better, more alert, so the pain and the shock of the slap are worth it.

“Okay. I’m okay,” he says aloud, trying to convince himself that he’s going to make it.

“I _will_ fucking make it. Don’t you give up, Tommo!” he shouts, arguing with himself. He remembers what Ed told him in the courtyard about not thinking about being tired, how the more he thinks about his need to sleep, the more his body will fight to give in to that need. So Louis slaps his cheek once again, the sharp bite of his palm into his soft flesh rendering his skin sore and sensitive but giving him something to concentrate on outside of his body’s sudden lethargy, and then he puts the matter of his own exhaustion to rest.

“No pun intended,” he mumbles and then he actually starts to giggle a little. He always got a bit punch-drunk when he was tired on Earth (not that he’s going to think about being tired) and this post-death weariness appears to have the same effect.

“Harry,” Louis breathes, trying to focus on the person that will be his reward if he can stay awake long enough for his efforts on this blacktop to pay off.

“Harry,” he repeats, and he considers how wonderful it will it be to see Harry again, even if just to glance upon his shiny chestnut curls or catch sight of his pretty hands.

“Harry,” he whispers like a prayer, thoughts of Harry’s perfect teeth and the little mole above his jaw line and the Adam’s apple that bobs deep in his throat when he speaks, now playing on a loop in Louis’ head.

“Harry. Harry. Harry.”

Suddenly, Louis remembers a song he used to sing with his sisters and brother. The song always made them laugh and he and his siblings would take turns, modifying the lyrics for each member of their little tribe, each person having their own part to sing. The more overzealous the effort they put into delivering their verses, the better, and it always became a sort of competition to see who amongst them could be the most ridiculous and goofy.

_“Lottie!_

_Lottie, Lottie, Bo-botty,_

_Bo-na-na fanna fo-fotty_

_Fee-fi-mo-fotty,_

_Lottie!”_

Louis thinks of how from the time she was a very young girl, Lottie would always roll her eyes and pretend to be annoyed by the song, but in the end she never failed to relent, and just as it was Louis’ job to sing the chorus dedicated to Lottie, it was Lottie’s task to sing the Fizzy chorus and she always fell into helpless giggles by the time she finished her part.

_“Fizzy!_

_Fizzy, Fizzy, Bo-bizzy,_

_Bo-na-na fanna fo-fizzy_

_Fee-fi-mo-mizzy,_

_Fizzy!”_

The chorus was repeated with each member of the family, Fizzy would sing for Phoebe, Phoebe sang for Daisy, Daisy sang for Doris, and when they were old enough, Doris sang for Earnest and Earnest sang for Louis. While they were still toddlers, the older siblings helped Doris and Ernie out with their versus and Louis always felt sort of proud, the way he and his oldest sisters had kept the tradition alive, the funny little novelty song something uniquely theirs that was shared between all seven siblings. They rarely ever got to the main parts of the song, the parts that explain the actual “Name Game,” but Louis never minded, the chorus is what mattered and the Tomlinson-Deakin clan had loads of fun with it.

They sang the song on road trips when they were all crammed into the family car, heading to visit their grandparents or even when they were just driving across town on afternoons when Louis treated his sisters and brother to a movie. They sang the song when Louis was kicking a football around with them in the backyard, and when they decorated the family Christmas tree and helped their mum with spring-cleaning. Louis may have headed off to Uni when the twin girls were still very young and before the younger set of twins were even born, but the song was a family ritual and at some point during his visits home, they would always end up signing it, Louis making his siblings laugh with the faces he would pull to distract them from properly completing their designated parts.

Now, the song spills from his lips, as if he has no choice in the matter, and Louis sings the silly lyrics that he has modified to accommodate the name of the person he loves best in the universe:

“Harry!

Harry, Harry, Bo-berry,

Bo-na-na fanna fo-ferry

Fee-fi-mo-merry,

Harry!”

He repeats the chorus again, this time a little bit louder, the sound of his own voice spurring him on and keeping him awake and alert.

“Harry!

Harry, Harry, Bo-berry,

Bo-na-na fanna fo-fery

Fee-fi-mo-merry,

Harry!”

He raises his voice to practically a shout, and this time, Louis sings the strange combinations of nonsensical words that describe his own name.

“Louis!

Louis, Louis, Bo-bouey,

Bo-na-na fanna fo-fouey

Fee-fi-mo-mouey,

Louis!”

He sings the chorus again and again, switching the lyrics back and forth between his own name and Harry’s, trying to push the thought out of his mind that he never had the chance to tell Harry about singing this song with his sisters and brother, that he never got to sing the song to Harry or have Harry sing the song to him. He knows Harry would find it sweet and funny – this little memory – and Louis can’t help it, suddenly the sadness is overwhelming because maybe somewhere on Earth, his siblings are remembering that Louis sang this song to them. Maybe they are missing him and singing the song on their own, without him. He’ll never see them again, at least not in the form he is now. It might be hundreds of years until they all meet up again in the Afterlife and when he finally gets to stand with his sisters and his brother for the first time after his death, he will no longer be the Louis that they knew on Earth.

Before very long, ‘Louis’ will cease to exist.

Louis’ family has surely held his funeral by now. His earthly body is already laid out in a coffin and buried deep within the Earth somewhere, or maybe his body has been burnt to dust, his bones ground into ash and poured into a jar, or cast to the wind on some beach. Louis has no idea what they did with him; he never really contemplated planning his funeral because he was so young and the thought of dying was completely absurd.

“I was only thirty bloody years old,” he croaks. At least he had a Will and a good life insurance policy. His mum won’t have to deal with a messy probate and there’s money allocated for her and each of his siblings. Louis always made sure to take care of his family.

Now, his family is lost to him and _he_ is lost to _them_.

Come this time tomorrow, Harry will be lost to Louis too and worst of all, for the man that is moving forward without his soul mate, Louis will be lost to him, as well.

Louis lets out a loud, guttural cry that cuts through the quiet of the night, his body wracked with jagged sobs as he runs faster across the pavement toward the train station, as if he can somehow outrun the horrible pain that is piercing through his heart, or the time that is ticking away from him, each moment he has left in this realm falling away by the second.

It’s all so fleeting.

 _This is the end_.

This is the end of everything and Louis can sing all the silly songs he wants and reminisce about his family and the man he desperately loves, a man he never would have dreamed could possibly exist when he was alive on Earth, but none of that even matters, because in a few short hours, all remnants of Louis Tomlinson will be gone forever and how is that even fair?

 _I’m coming to my end_ , he thinks and then he barks a loud, rueful laugh at the irony of it all. Louis is literally traveling the end of the road. This road may take him to the train station, might even deliver him to Harry if he’s lucky enough, but ultimately, this road will lead to the end of every aspect of the life that was once his. He’s already getting tired and he knows in his gut that he doesn’t have much longer in this realm. He probably won’t even make it back to his hotel before he falls asleep.

How is this even happening?

Louis wipes at his eyes, his vision clouded by his tears, and then he swipes his sleeve across his nose, the simple act filling his nostrils with the noxious odor of the Resident coffee that is stained on his cuff and Louis coughs and splutters at the stench.

But then, something strange happens. The horrible residue of the Resident coffee shocks Louis’ senses, the vile liquid that stains his garment almost serving as smelling salts of sorts and it snaps him to alertness. Louis sniffles and tries to get his crying under control, making a mental note to remember this trick the next time he starts to get sleepy.

Just then, Louis sees a break in the darkness up ahead, a dim light climbing over the horizon and casting a warm glow on the roadway and surrounding land. The light is moving closer and Louis realizes that there are actually two lights. Louis slows his pace to a jog and it takes his mind a moment to actually register that what he is seeing are the two, round headlights of an approaching tram.

“Shit!” Louis cries as the lights barrel closer. He wonders why it took him so long to discern what was obviously an approaching vehicle, but he doesn’t have time to contemplate the matter. Instead, he runs off the side of the road, across the little stretch of flatland that leads to the drop-off where the ground begins to slope downward toward the beach. The hillside is scattered with perfectly round box shrubs and Louis dives towards one, his tupa skirt bunching beneath his knees as he shuffles across the grass and tucks himself behind the small bush.

He can hear the engine of the tram now, and the light is getting brighter as the vehicle approaches. Louis silently prays that the tram will keep moving, that the driver was too far away to see him on the road and that the vehicle will pass by without stopping. He sits up on his knees and peeks around the side of the shrub to try and sneak a look, just as a bright red tram slowly passes by.

The tram is filled to capacity with Intakes; all of who look completely stoned and utterly out of it.

 _Newly dead_ , Louis thinks to himself, but his thoughts are immediately interrupted by the muted sound of a female voice that is coming from inside the vehicle.

“I’m happy to share that Judgment City boasts fifteen championship golf courses!” the female voice enthuses. “In addition to golf, some of our other popular activities include tennis, horseback riding, rock climbing…”

The sound of the voice begins to fade as the vehicle passes by completely and Louis lets out a sigh of relief as he watches the tail end of the tram get smaller and smaller until it disappears down the road, surely on its way to deliver the freshly deceased to their designated hotel.

Louis starts to stand upright so that he might get back to his run, but he wobbles forward, suddenly dizzy, and he nearly collapses into the bush.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters and then he forces himself up onto his feet. He lifts his arm and takes a huge whiff of the coffee stain and he immediately gags, but the wretched smell has the desired effect and he feels a little more steady and alert. He takes a step, but then he’s struck with a raw sort of pain on the pad of his right foot that causes him to slow. He takes another step and feels a distinct rubbing on the back of his left ankle and he realizes he needs to sit back down and take a look, because if the pain is caused by what he suspects, he’s going to need to do something to prevent matters from getting worse or else he won’t be able to run much longer.

Louis sits back down in the grass and presses the button on the side of his watch, illuminating the dial. He shines the watch face over his lower body, noting that the front of his tupa skirt is now sullied with large grass stains from scurrying on his knees to the bush, but he doesn’t waist time thinking about his garment, instead he pulls back the skirt and directs the light at his right foot and then he gently slides off his shoe and holds his foot up, immediately wincing at the sight before him.

He has no idea how it happened so quickly, but he supposes it’s because he isn’t wearing socks and he’s dressed in simple shoes with very little padding, but the cause doesn’t really matter. The only thing that matters is that there is a huge blister developing on the pad of his foot, directly below his big toe. The skin over the blister is thin and there is only little bit of fluid inside because the edge of the blister is ripped, exposing raw flesh where the blister has burst open. Louis knows that the injury will only get worse once he gets back on the road and starts pounding the pavement again. He needs something to provide a buffer between the broken skin and the inside of his shoe, so he reaches up and grabs a couple leafs off the box shrub, just as the light from his watch dims. He pushes the button on the side of the dial and once again, a low circle of light is emitted from his watch face, and Louis takes a leaf in his hand and carefully presses it over the blister, sliding another leaf inside of his shoe so that it encompasses the toe area. He then slips the shoe over his foot, his actions careful so as to not disturb the placement of this rudimentary padding.

Louis then removes his left shoe and sure enough, the skin on the back of his heel is bright red from the friction of his foot rubbing against the inside of the shoe’s heel cap. Thankfully, the skin is not blistered or raw, but if it keeps grating against the lining of his shoe it will be before too long, so he grabs another leaf, wrapping it over the tender area to create a simple bandage that will hopefully protect his skin.

He lets out a heavy sigh.

Louis is currently wearing leaf bandages, of all the absurd things, on his blistered and battered feet, when what he really needs is a pair of socks, and he sighs again at the irony of that fact.

When he was alive, Louis positively hated wearing socks and he always complained that they smothered his feet. Even the thin silken socks he sometimes wore with his business suits bothered him and more often than not he skipped wearing them all together. In fact, the only time Louis made a point of wearing socks was when he was engaged in exercise or sport because they were an absolute necessity when wearing athletic shoes and he knew that taking care of his feet was crucial if he wanted to perform at his best. Of course, a couple nights back, Louis _did_ wear the knee socks that came with his footie kit for Harry, but that was purely for aesthetic purposes and Harry very obviously appreciated his efforts.

Louis definitely hates wearing socks, but as he sits on the side of the road, one foot blistered and the other well on it’s way, all he can think of is how wonderful it would be if he had a pair of thick cotton socks to slip on before he continues his run.

Actually, what he’d really like is to sink his sore feet into is a pair of slippers. On Earth, Louis had a pair of terry cloth slippers that were cushiony and thick and so incredibly comfortable. He always stepped into them when he climbed out of bed in the morning or when he emerged from the shower and when he wore them, he felt like he was walking on a cloud. Up until this evening, Louis had found the simple flats he’s worn throughout his stay in Judgment City to be that sort of comfortable, but he never wore those flats while power-walking fourteen blocks and then following that walk up with a long-distance run on a hard blacktop road. His post-death shoes were obviously not designed for such high-impact physical activity. Still, Louis needs to stop thinking about his footwear and get on his way. But before he goes, wouldn’t it be nice to lean back in the tall grass and take a quick nap? Just for a few minutes, if he could only close his eyes and have a little bit of rest –

“Shit!” Louis yells and he quickly hops to his feet. He slaps his cheek again and this time he does it with such force that it really hurts. When he pulls his hand away it’s shaking and the side of his face positively burns. He can only imagine what his cheek is starting to look like with all of the self-abuse he has been inflicting, but he’s awake and that’s all that matters.

He’s about to head back up the little drop-off toward the road when he realizes that his bladder is uncomfortably full, the Resident coffee now having officially made its way through his digestive system, and so he lifts up his tupa skirt and has a quick wee.

“Pissing in the middle of nowhere after having just slapped meself silly” he mumbles aloud, briefly slipping into his Donny accent. “This has been quite the day, hasn’t it, mate?”

He feels mercifully better after having emptied his bladder, and he drops his tupa skirt and then hurriedly makes his way back up the few meters he’d descended on the hillside, ignoring the raw pain of his blister and the dull, heavy ache in his shin as he steps onto the pavement and immediately continues his run.

Louis knows he’s only going to get more tired as he goes, but he pushes the thought out of his mind and instead tries to come up with ways to keep himself alert and entertained. He decides against singing songs that remind him of his family, it’s simply too painful, so he settles on a song he heard in a movie once that always kind of stuck with him. He even took the time to look up the lyrics to the song online and learned to play it on the piano that sat in the living room of his family home in Doncaster.

“Come Josephine in my flying machine, going up she goes,” he starts to sing out, his voice carrying across the distance in the quiet of the night. “Up she goes.”

The song was popular in the early 20th Century, eighty some years before Louis was even born, but Louis knows it because it’s the song that Jack sang to Rose when he took her “flying” on the railings of the ship in the movie _Titanic_.

The song is whimsical and sweet and after the first time Louis heard the little snippet that was sung in the film, it played in his head like an earworm and he couldn’t rid himself of it for weeks. The movie was a favorite of his and on occasion, when he was flipping through the television channels and searching for something to watch, he’d happen upon _Titanic_ and he’d always settle on that channel, regardless of whether the film was just starting or if the ship was already under water. There was just something about the story of those two, doomed lovers that were so cruelly separated by fate that just _got_ to Louis.

“Nope! Pick another one, Tommo!” he shouts, the irony of his song choice not lost on him. He thinks about Harry and then his mind is cast back onto what, for all practical purposes, could be described as his and Harry’s first date: the Elvis concert.

He begins to sing his favorite Elvis songs, starting with “Suspicious Minds” and belting the lyrics out at the top of his lungs. His thoughts immediately return to Harry and the way he looked sucking that ginormous banana daiquiri through that green straw when they sat at their little round table sipping cocktails and getting to know each other better before the concert started. Harry’s mouth was positively obscene and it was all Louis could do not to lunge out of his seat and take Harry apart right then and there. Best of all, Harry looked at Louis the exact same way. Louis knows without a doubt that by that point in the evening, they were both already desperately in love with one another. He finishes singing “Suspicious Minds” and immediately moves on to “Can’t Help Falling in Love”, completely immersed in the happy memory of the evening they spent together.

 _“This song is so pretty. I don’t know a lot about Elvis, but I know this song,”_ Harry had whispered while Elvis was singing. Louis remembers the way he and Harry had stared at each other after Harry said those words, the way they gawked at one another like they were the only two people in that huge concert hall. It _always_ felt like they were the only two people in the room, actually. When Harry was stood in front of Louis, it was nearly impossible for Louis to see anyone else.

“Like a river flows – ” Louis starts, but then he cuts himself off mid-verse. It’s too painful to sing that song because it’s Louis’ all time favorite love song and he got to hear _the_ Elvis Presley sing it while Louis stared into the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen, and those eyes belonged to the person that is the other half of his soul. It was a perfect moment, but it was so very fleeting, this entire, wonderful whirlwind love affair beginning and crashing to an end in the blink of an eye.

 _Harry has to go on without me. I’ll be on Earth and never even know that he existed. How is that right?_ Louis wonders, his heart aching in his chest. He continues on silently, his momentary lapse into happiness now officially obliterated.

He passes a fenced in pasture to his right and although its dark, he can hardly miss the huge Angus cows that are lazily grazing in the field, apparently having a late dinner of the thick, green grass that grows as far as the eye can see. He notices a massive barn and beside it is a small cluster of neatly appointed cottages and it dawns on Louis that a lot more goes into caring for the dead than just what can be accomplished within Judgment City limits. He supposes there are all sorts of workers everywhere in this realm who are unseen but nonetheless important cogs in the machinery of the Afterlife.

Not for the first time since Louis’ life on Earth came to an end does he consider just how incredibly wrong most people on Earth are when it comes to what happens to a person when they die.

“If they only knew,” he mutters.

Louis travels onward, the road a long, winding ribbon that divides the coastline from the countryside and even in the darkness it’s all so beautiful. He wishes he were traveling this road under happier circumstances; he wishes he were traveling this road with Harry.

Louis passes what must be the end of the farmland because the fence that contains the pasture gives way to another open field of flowers. It’s so quiet; the only sound he registers outside of his feet hitting the pavement is the pounding of his heart in his chest and his increasingly labored breaths. He’s starting to get a bit winded. He feels like he’s been on this journey forever and he yawns loudly, another wave of exhaustion suddenly washing over him and causing him to stumble. He catches himself before he fully falls, but his right foot drags on the ground and as he trips he feels the skin of his blister ripping open and he lets out a sharp, surprised cry of pain.

He stops in his tracks, the sudden pain both searing and raw. He grabs onto his right foot and hops on his left, which only serves to exacerbate the ache in his shin. He still has so much further to go and how is this even happening?

“It’s not fucking fair!” he screams at the sky and while it may have been the catalyst for this little outburst, Louis is not referring to his blistered foot. His entire world is falling apart around him and Louis just wants to yell his lungs out and drive this horrible heartache away. He wants to punch the universe for sending him from Harry. He’s so unbelievably angry. “It’s so bloody unfair,” he cries, scrubbing his hand over his face.

It might be unfair, but he can’t waste any more time whining about it. He has to hurry, so in spite of the sharp pain caused by his open flesh rubbing against the tattered leaf that lines the insole of his right shoe, and despite the ever-present and progressively brutal ache in his left shin, Louis starts to run again, his steps a lot less sure than when he first started.

Louis doesn’t travel too much further down the road when he sees a long, thin light in the distance and he lets out a heavy sigh that is both a combination of relief and frustration. He’s relieved because he knows that light must be the entrance to the Intake Center. Ed told Louis that when he passed the Intake Center he would be over halfway to the train station. But that’s where the frustration comes in because he’s been running on this road for what seems like hours and really, all he’s traveled is a few kilometers. He still has quite a way to go.

He moans out loud as he tries to pick up the pace. It’s like he suddenly has ankle weights strapped around his feet and he’s having trouble moving as freely as he did at the start of this little run. There were plenty of occasions when Louis was alive that he played footie while he injured or when suffering blisters, but this is different somehow. He’s just so _tired_ and more than anything, he hates himself for admitting this fact because if he acknowledges that he’s becoming increasingly exhausted he may very well decide to give in to the pull of sleep.

“No you won't!” he yells. He takes another sniff of his tupa cuff, the pungent odor of the Resident coffee entering his nostrils and jolting his senses. He opens his eyes wide and although he does experience a moment of instantaneous alertness, it’s not quite at the level as the previous time he inhaled that horrific stench.

 _Fuck_.

He keeps running.

He’s getting closer to the lights and he can now make out that they comprise an entire, curved row and he suspect that they run along the main drive into the Center. It’s strange though, because even though there is light in the distance, it’s starting to get a bit overcast and he’s having a harder time seeing the road ahead. Louis looks up and notices that clouds are now moving across the sky, obstructing the moon and stars in a thick haze and casting a shadow over the ground. Louis blinks his eyes heavily and then closes them for a long beat, running blindly for a moment until he realizes what he’s doing and snaps them open again.

He hates to do it. He absolutely doesn’t want to, but Louis raises his hand and for the fourth time this evening, he strikes his own cheek. This time, he hits himself so hard that his head actually snaps sharply to the left and punches the breath out of his lungs. Louis desperately wants to get to Harry, but he never imagined that he’d actually have to physically harm himself in order to do so. He’s sure his face is an absolute mess. He’s always had sensitive skin and he can only imagine how red and inflamed his cheek must be. He thinks back to the time Eleanor slapped him when he announced to her that he was gay. He had no idea in that moment that her strike had been powerful enough to leave a handprint on the side of his face that lingered for hours. It wasn’t until he watched the Review clip this morning that he was reminded of just how serious that mark was. He’s slapped himself four times now, each blow increasingly harder than the one that came before and all of them significantly more brutal than the sharp smack leveled on him by his ex-wife.

His right hand is once again tingling from slapping his flesh so hard, so Louis raises his left hand and carefully touches his fingertips against his cheek, and his skin feels like it’s on fire. He can’t believe what he’s been reduced to, but he’ll gladly endure this pain if it brings him to Harry.

He runs faster, throwing his arms out at his sides and shouting into the wind, “I’m still here, universe! I’m still fighting!”

He lets out a breathy laugh, proud of himself for screaming his defiance, even if there is absolutely no one around to hear him.

But then he sees it in the distance: a moving light that travels along the illuminated path that serves as the entrance to the Intake Center and Louis recognizes it immediately as a tram. The tram slows to a stop at the end of the drive and then turns and heads straight in Louis’ direction.

“Bloody hell,” Louis grunts, and for the second time this evening, he runs straight off the road and starts down the little sloping hillside to hide out until the tram passes. But the grass is slippery, the evening dew just beginning to form on its sharp blades, and Louis loses his footing, his feet shooting out from under his body as he falls. He lands hard on his left hip, his legs sliding straight out in front of him and before he knows what’s happening, Louis is barreling down the hill, his tupa-skirt flying upwards and tangling around his waist, exposing his legs. His body is turned on his left side, his bare thigh and calve dragging across the rough earth as he slides down the hillside, the uneven ground, roots, sticky grass, and occasional rock abraising his skin. He finally stops when he crashes into a hydrangea bush, his feet slamming into it first and slowing his movements, but his legs nonetheless are driven beneath the bushes’ low-hanging branches up to his knees, the rough bark and pointy twigs scratching and cutting into his flesh.

It all happens so fast that Louis is momentarily stunned and unable to move. Worst of all, when he finally shakes off the shock of the fall and his rapid descent down the hillside, Louis registers that he hurts everywhere.

He just lays there, his breathing ragged and his body battered and wracked with pain. The skin on the outside of his left thigh and calve burns where his flesh has been scraped raw in spots by the friction of the grass and jagged earth, and he’s certain he’s going to end up with a massive bruise on his hip from where he first hit the ground. The lower portion of his right leg is scratched, cut, and bleeding from where it was jammed forcefully beneath the branches of the hydrangea bush, not to mention the previous injuries to his shin and feet that he’s suffered since he started this miserable journey.

Louis lays still on the moist ground with his skirt bunched up around his waist and his body bruised and bloodied. He was so cocky out on the road, screaming defiantly about how he was still fighting. It was almost like he was challenging the universe, and it was a challenge he lost, because the universe certainly put him back in his place. He’s never felt so humiliated and defeated in all of his existence. A thought flashes through his mind then and it is both horrifying and strangely welcoming.

_I should just give up._

Louis’ eyes blink heavily and he realizes that if he stays here half buried beneath this bush much longer, he won’t even have to give up because he will most definitely fall asleep without any prompting. All he has to do is close his eyes and this heartache will be over. He’s so very tired and so incredibly sad. His body is craving rest, the desire all-consuming, really. Maybe it would be best if he just gave up the fight. Maybe he should just let the universe win.

_But then I won’t get to kiss Harry goodbye._

Louis opens his eyes wide as that thought crosses his mind.

“I have to see him again,” he states emphatically, his voice loud and clear and cutting through the quiet of the night. “I _will_ see him again,” he adds for good measure.

He’s come much too far to give up now. Harry deserves to see Louis again before he advances. Harry deserves to know that Louis loves him so much that he ran all the way from the Review Center to give him a single kiss. Harry is everything and Louis is not going to let him move forward without seeing Louis’ face one last time. He knows it will mean the world to Harry, and for the brief time that he has left in this realm, it will mean the world to Louis, too.

He twists his body so that he is flat on his back and then he raises his torso to rest on his elbows. He places his feet firmly on the ground and bends his knees as much as he can beneath the tangled branches. He draws in a deep breath and then on the exhale, Louis pushes his body backwards and away from the bush, the quick movement causing a sharp pain to cut through his hip and he lets out a lowly cry at the sensation.

Louis doesn’t think he can stand from this position, he feels weak and dizzy, and so he rolls over onto his front and rests on his hands and knees. He draws in another steadying breath, his palms flat on the ground, and then he forces himself slowly upright, walking his feet across the grass towards his upper body until he is able to finally stand, pain shooting through his left leg at the stretch. He’s not sure what hurts more: the stinging pain that is radiating through his newly injured hip and thigh, or the throbbing pain in his shin that has only gotten significantly worse since he first walked into the stack of marble tile back at the Review Center. It doesn’t matter really, Louis may hurt all over, but at least he is standing.

He looks up the hillside. He traveled downhill at least seven or eight meters when he slipped and it’s going to be a miserable trek back up to the road, but one he’ll happily make so that he can see Harry’s face one last time.

He starts his ascent, his sore body protesting with every step he takes, the sloping ground making his journey more difficult. But Louis moves as fast as he possibly can, every now and again tottering forward on his feet and pushing his hands off the ground to force his body back upright when he stumbles. He’s only two or three meters from the top when he notices the lights of the tram in the distance and it suddenly strikes him that considering the time it took for him to tumble downhill, crawl out from beneath the bramble of the hydrangea bush, and then make his way back up, that tram should have long since passed by.

Louis tilts his head and watches the light curiously. The tram is moving slow, ridiculously slow, in fact. The tram is traveling down the road at a practical snail’s pace and the realization sends a jolt of fear throughout Louis’ body.

“They’re looking for me,” he mumbles and he has no doubt in his mind that his words are true. There is another cluster of hydrangea bushes not far from where he initially fell and he scurries over to them, momentarily forgetting his pain as the adrenaline brought on by his panic courses through his system.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the tram is getting closer.

He can hear the motor as it approaches, the area around him suddenly illuminated by the glow cast from the vehicle’s headlights. Louis ducks and as he turns his head, his eyes cast out over the sea and his mouth falls open as he watches a low, but heavy fog rolling in across the surface of the water and crawling up the coastline. The fog almost appears to be moving in slow motion and if Louis didn’t know better, he’d think it was coming after _him_. It looks absolutely ominous and Louis is reminded of an old horror film he once watched that starred that woman from the _Halloween_ movies. The entire film was basically _Halloween_ -girl running from a deadly fog that wrought evil spirits and horrible havoc in its wake.

“Jamie Lee Curtis,” he mumbles, somewhat disoriented. “ _Halloween_ -girl’s name is Jamie Lee Curtis.”

He squints his eyes and watches as the fog rolls in ever closer, its vapors lifting off the ground and completely obscuring the pebble-covered beach at the bottom of the drop off.

 _Jesus_.

_What in the hell is even happening?_

Louis has been in the Afterlife for six days now and he’s never experienced weather such as this. There is a cool breeze, but the air is warm and despite the thin layer of dew on the grass, the atmosphere is dry. The temperature has to be around 22 °C and it’s been that same temperature pretty much since the minute he first arrived in this realm. These are certainly not the weather conditions conducive to dense fog, but there it is nonetheless: unfurling across the land like a white, misty ghost, its curling tendrils stretching out and seeming to reach for Louis where he sits on his aching haunches, tucked up behind the hydrangea bush.

Louis doesn’t have time to contemplate the fog any further however, because the sound of the tram is getting louder and given the way the lights are still crawling across the landscape, it hasn’t picked up its speed in the slightest, which is not a good sign.

Louis drops his head, defeated, and tries not to cry. He’s positively certain that whoever is operating that tram is looking for him, their sole purpose being to drag him back to his hotel or someplace “safe” where he can transition.

Louis has traveled so far and he’s so close to his destination. He can’t go back to the hotel now, he absolutely can’t. He has to see Harry. He _needs_ to see Harry and Harry _deserves_ to see him. Louis has pushed his body to the limits to get here. He drank that horrible Resident coffee just to buy himself a little bit of extra time, and he has sustained repeated injuries on his journey. It doesn’t seem right that he can simply be hauled away before he’s made it to the finish line.

“Please keep moving,” he whispers under his breath, silently praying the universe will grant him some mercy and this tram will drive on ahead and leave Louis to his quest.

But it doesn’t.

Louis hears the squeaking of tires as the tram slows to a stop, the light emitted by the headlights suddenly stationary. He hears the distinct sound of a parking brake being applied and then the sharp whoosh of doors opening. He closes his eyes because he’s so, utterly broken; it’s all coming to an end and it’s happening so fast.

Louis’ heart is pounding so rapidly that it threatens to burst right out of his chest, his body breaking out in a thin sheen of sweat as fear and anxiety floods his veins.

Everything around him suddenly goes quiet, as if the entire universe is anticipating what is going to happen next. But then, the sound of heavy footsteps descending from the step of the tram and then crossing the pavement, breaks the silence. Louis bites his fist to suppress the cry that is desperately trying to escape his lips. If he can stay quiet and still for just a bit longer, maybe the person looking for him won’t find him and they’ll climb back into that tram and go away.

But then a male voice rings out loudly in the night.

“Louis! Louis Tomlinson!” the voice shouts. “Come out of hiding! We know you’re here.”

Louis cradles his head in the palms of his hands and allows the cry that he was holding back to escape his lips.

 _They’ve come for me_.

******

 “You’re progressing quite nicely,” Rose comments, lightly patting the wife’s forearm. “Last check you were nearly seven centimeters dilated and your contractions are coming in much faster, too. Of course, I don’t have to tell you that,” she winks.

The wife offers Rose a weak smile in response. Her labor has suddenly started moving along quite rapidly and although she’s grateful because it means her baby will be here soon, it also means that the pain has gotten far more intense and that those contractions, which are showing up every five minutes or so, are now significantly longer and more difficult to endure.

The wife wants to have a natural childbirth. After all that she’s lost, she’s not going to do anything that could potentially harm her baby or impede the child’s delivery into the world, even if she’s been assured that pain medication and an epidural will do no such thing. Well, the epidural may slow things down a tad, but she’s been promised the relief it would afford would be entirely worth the extra time spent pushing. Still, she stands strong in her conviction that she wants to deliver this baby naturally and neither Dr. Cooper, nor the nurses, presses the issue. For now anyway, she’s sticking to her original plan.

“Your body, your choice,” Dr. Cooper had muttered when she turned down his suggestion to add a shot of Fentanyl to her IV drip to ease her pain. “But the option is always open,” he’d added under his breath, raising an eyebrow like he was somehow conspiring with her. The wife almost found herself liking Dr. Cooper in that moment, something she never would have imagined possible even an hour previous.

“Once you’ve reached ten centimeters, you’ll be ready to start pushing,” Peggy declares, interrupting the wife’s thoughts. The wife nods in appreciation.

“I can’t wait to start pushing. It will be so wonderful to finally hold this baby in my arms,” the wife replies.

“A lot of women miss being pregnant after they’ve delivered,” Rose comments.

“Not sure you’ll miss all that bed rest and sitting about, will you Jess?” the husband asks.

“Definitely not,” the wife answers. “I can’t wait to leave the house again. For weeks, the only place I’ve been allowed to go is to Dr. Pomatter’s office for my regular doctor visits. Even a trip to Tesco sounds like heaven to me.” She looks at her husband who is just finishing his second cupcake of the evening and tossing the wrapper in the bin. In the past few days he’s traveled all the way from Rotherham to Falmouth and back, three times, and he had to make that trip alone and under the worst circumstances. He could have stayed in a hotel, but he was too worried to leave the wife alone for any length of time and so he left their home each morning while the moon was still in the sky and returned long after dusk, just so he could be with her in case she needed him while the rest of the world was asleep. She knows he’s exhausted. She can’t imagine how he managed to coordinate everything so quickly, how he was able to take care of every little detail in an honorable and beautiful manner, and do so while he was suffering immeasurable grief. He did it all without the wife’s help, who, because of her condition, wasn’t allowed to make any long-distance trips. “With me on bed rest you’ve had to handle so much responsibility on your own, John. I’m so proud of you, love.” The implication behind her words goes unspoken.

“Well,” he answers, his voice sure as he changes a subject that wasn’t even properly brought up in the first place, “I’d do all of the grocery shopping and errands forever just to have a healthy wife and child. That’s all I care about right now.” He winks sweetly at the wife and she knows that he’s making light for her. He doesn’t want anything to cause her additional stress or distract her from the joy of the pending arrival and it’s a gift really, the way he’s able to push his own pain aside and focus solely on their little family unit. “Besides, Jess. We both know Tesco is your _least_ favorite place in the world.”

Before the wife can respond, Peggy interjects.

“Ah, be careful making promises like that,” she says laughing and pointing her thumb in the wife’s direction. “The misses here might have you running errands for the rest of your days.”

“I absolutely will not!” the wife protests, although she can’t help but grin because sure, while she’s not enjoyed being trapped inside the house for the past five weeks, the husband was right when he said that she hated Tesco. She loathes grocery shopping in general and her husband has always made the majority of food purchases for their household while she’s taken care of chores that he doesn’t like, such as doing the laundry and picking up the dry cleaning. They’re definitely partners on every front. She’s starting to remind him as much, when she’s interrupted by the familiar burn of a coming contraction.

“Another one, love?” the husband asks, instantly reading the change in his wife’s affect. He automatically reaches out, taking her hand into his own. The wife squeezes it gratefully and nods her head.

“Oh lord,” she mumbles, because the pain is getting significantly more intense each time her uterus contracts in preparation for the birth of their child. The pain in her abdomen isn’t even the worst of it, the burning ache radiating throughout her lower back is actually far more severe and she groans loudly and chokes a stuttered breath as she tries to keep her bearings. She briefly thinks of Dr. Cooper’s remark about how the option for pain medication is always open and she’s starting to consider that she may reverse her course on this whole natural childbirth deal before this night is over.

“Just breathe,” Jess, her husband coaches.

“I’m trying!” she snaps, but her husband isn’t offended by her harsh tone. Instead, he gently strokes the fingers of his free hand over her hand that he holds and begins to do the breathing exercises that they’d learned together during the birthing classes they were able to attend before she was put on bed rest and from the Lamaze videos they’d watched at home when she was no longer able to leave the house.

“He, he, he,” is the sound he makes as he draws in three, rapid breaths, followed by a long, “whooooo,” as he blows the air out of his lungs. Before she even realizes what’s happening, the wife is joining in with her husband, drawing in the short puffs of air and blowing them out in time with his own, measured breaths. He nods his head in encouragement. “You’re doing so well, Jess. Keep breathing!”

Finally, after seventy-five seconds that feel like an eternity, the pain passes and the wife can once again relax.

“You got through that one like a champ, Jess,” her husband coos.

“I’m sorry that I snapped at you,” the wife apologizes. “I didn’t mean to, it just hurt so badly that I was beside myself.”

“I know you didn’t mean it, love. You can snap at me all you like if it will make you feel better. You’re the one who has to go through all of this. I’m just sorry that there isn’t more that I can do to help.”

“Well, you certainly helped with the breathing,” Rose offers and then she directs her attention to the wife. “You can tell your husband has studied up on childbirth. He’s a pro at coaching.”

“He did and he is,” the wife answers. “We attended birthing classes together, but then I was put on bed rest, so he went straight out and bought a bunch of birthing videos. Sat and watched each and every one with me and even did all of the exercises with the ladies onscreen, right there in the middle of our living room!”

“Aw, that’s lovely,” Rose replies. “I’m always happy when I see fathers so involved. You wouldn’t believe how many are completely clueless when it comes to their partner’s labor. You wouldn’t believe how many women go through childbirth completely on their own.”

“Was nothing,” the husband contends, but the wife squeezes his hand anyway, grateful to have him. “The first video was a shocker though,” he continues. “It featured an actual underwater childbirth, which, when all was said and done, looked like a regular blood bath.” The wife knows he’s only partially joking when he adds, “Don’t think I’ll ever un-see that one.”

“But the baby was perfect and the parents were so happy afterwards,” she replies. She furrows her brow and pinches her husband on the arm, her voice teasing when she says, “Wait a minute… are you saying you don’t want to get into a tub of water with me to deliver this baby? You know, I think I heard they have a birthing tub at this very hospital.”

“Yes! That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he counters, holding up his hands in emphasis. “I’d prefer for my children to be born on dry land. Thank you very much.”

“Have it your way, then,” the wife sighs, liking this little banter a great deal.

“You two are just adorable,” Peggy says, not for the first time this evening, but the wife never tires of hearing the praise, just the same.

Suddenly, a thought occurs to her.

“Have you heard anything more from mummy and dad?” she asks and the husband immediately pulls out his phone, but before he can even check his messages, the device rings. He flips the phone toward the wife so that she can see the image of her own mother lighting up her husband’s screen and then he answers the call, but he doesn’t really get much of a chance to speak. Instead, he just nods his head and opens his mouth to offer responses to his mother-in-law’s questions while she seemingly talks right over him. The husband looks at the wife and shrugs his shoulders and they both break out in huge grins because her mother is famous for not letting anyone get a word in edgewise and it doesn’t appear she’s about to start now.

“That’s right,” the husband finally says, speaking into his cell phone. He looks at the wife and rolls his eyes and she blows him a playful kiss in response. “Well, we came early because – yes, that’s right. Because her water broke and we thought it – Room 517 – we’ll see you in a bit, then.” He punches the front of his phone’s screen, ending the call.

“That sounded like fun,” the wife teases and the husband runs his hands through his hair and lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Your mother is one of the sweetest women in the world, but she’s not one for letting a person talk.”

“That’s never been her strong suit,” the wife agrees. The husband leans over and plants a series of quick kisses on her lips. The kisses are sweet, they taste like vanilla frosting and when the husband starts to pull away, the wife decides she doesn’t want to let him go. Instead, she grabs on to him, pulling him in close and nuzzling her nose against his. “Your always so patient with her, John. I love you.” He smiles bashfully, his cheeks flushing pink.

“I love you too, Jess,” he answers, and then he leans over and kisses the wife’s covered belly. “And I love you three, bean!”

“So your mum and dad are on their way?” Rose asks and the wife nods.

“They should be here within the hour,” the husband offers, the wife promptly interjecting, “High-spirited chaos will surely ensue.” The husband nods his head in agreement and then quieter, he adds, “It will be great to see them, actually. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“And what about _your_ family?” Peggy questions, directing her attention to the husband. “Will they be bringing spirited chaos, as well?”

The husband’s shoulders immediately slump and his eyes drop to the ground and then he raises them, looking helplessly at the wife. She quickly reaches out, taking his hand in her own.

“Just mine,” the wife answers for her husband. “But trust me, my parents are going to be _more_ than enough to deal with, and then come tomorrow, my sisters and brother will arrive and as far as they go… Well, you both should probably plan on taking the day off,” she suggests with a smile.

“Sounds like a rowdy bunch,” Rose laughs.

“You don’t know the half of it,” the husband replies his tone bright and relieved. He squeezes the wife’s hand, his gratitude at her fielding Peggy’s question obvious on his face. He places his free hand on the wife’s belly then and she immediately covers it with her own.

“Finish line,” she mouths and he nods his head, his lips turning up into a genuine smile.

“Finish line,” he softly repeats.

******

Louis sits on his haunches behind a hydrangea bush that is covered in bright blue flowers, tears slowly streaming down his cheeks as the man calls out to him again.

“Louis! We’re here to help you! Come out and show –”

“He’s never going to come to you,” a female voice quietly interrupts.

Louis sits up straight and his ears perk because he thinks he recognizes the woman’s voice, but… there is just no way. How is it even possible that _she_ could be here? What if this is some kind of trick the universe is playing so he’ll come out of hiding and then the voice will be revealed to be some Afterlife bounty hunter whose only purpose is to wrangle rogue Intakes and drag them back to their hotels?

“He doesn’t know who you are, or the sound of your voice, Randall, and you’re no-doubt scaring him half to death,” the female continues. This time, Louis is all but certain that it’s her and he actually gasps he’s so relieved.

“He’s already dead,” a second female interjects, her tone casual. Her voice sounds young and girlish and it’s familiar too. Now that Louis thinks about it, the voice of the male who has been calling for him is also… oddly familiar.

“Not the best time for cracking jokes, Meghie,” the male voice chastises.

“Laughter is always appropriate,” the young female, _Meghie_ , responds. “Especially in stressful situations.”

 _Meghie and Randall_ , Louis thinks to himself, gently smacking his forehead. _They’re the ones I was supposed to ask for if Beatrice wasn’t available_.

“Both of you, please stop,” the first female voice gently commands and Louis knows now without a doubt that the voice belongs to his friend. “We’re here to help Louis, not to make jokes or to argue with one another. Our task is sacred.”

Louis closes his eyes for a long beat, his body trembling and his tears spilling harder. He’s so overwhelmed with gratitude. He doesn’t know how she knew to come or where to find him, but she’s here.

“Beatrice!” Louis croaks and he’s surprised by the way his voice sounds almost removed from his body, like he’s shouting in a tunnel, a low echo reverberating in his ears. He stands up slowly, unsteady on his feet and he grasps at the thin branches of the bush for support when he’s fully upright. “I’m over here!”

“Louis!” Beatrice calls back and before Louis can even take a step toward the sound of her voice, she appears at the top of the hill, a man and woman at her side. All three are dressed in green hospital scrubs, simple white trainers on their feet. Beatrice starts down the sloping hillside towards Louis, a thin, dark-haired man who appears to be in his mid-thirties and an even younger-looking petite blonde – who Louis now knows to be Randall and Meghie – following closely behind.

“Oh Louis! I’m so glad we found you,” Beatrice gushes.

Louis lets go of the willowy stems he was holding onto, flower petals falling from his fingers, and he goes to take a step toward Beatrice and immediately sways on his feet, but before he can fall, the man lunges forward and catches him, holding him steady. Beatrice wraps her arm around Louis’ back from the other side and the two of them help him the rest of the way up the hill, his body stiff and sore and his movements awkward.

When they reach the roadside, Louis turns to Beatrice and throws his arms fully around her, hugging her tightly.

“I’m so happy to see you,” he cries, relief flooding his veins. Beatrice hugs Louis’ back, her voice soothing when she replies, “I’m so happy to see you too, Louis. I was so worried about you.”

Louis pulls away then and wipes his eyes, trying to get his emotions in check. He just can’t believe she’s here. He was at his absolute lowest point on this long and difficult trek and then Beatrice showed up and now he once again feels hope. As Beatrice stands in front of him, looking him over, Louis realizes he’s never felt so thankful.

“It appears you’ve had quite a journey,” she says, surveying his soiled and disheveled tupa. Louis runs his hands over the front of his garment and straightens his belt, as if doing so will magically erase all the dirt, grass, and bloodstains that sully the once-pristine material.

“It’s been eventful,” Louis allows. Beatrice’s expression is worried, but she doesn’t press him for details. Instead, she introduces Louis to Meghie and Randall and he shakes their hands, happy to meet the people who are friends with Beatrice.

“How did you even know to come looking for me?” he asks, after the introductions have all been made.

“I got your message,” Beatrice replies, her arm still firmly wrapped about Louis’ waist. Louis is grateful for the physical support. He can barely stand upright on his own, his body still aching from his fall. “And then, right after I received the message that you were trying to reach me, Jeremy called and he told me you might need my help.”

“Jeremy,” Louis answers, his words coming out a bit slower than usual, but nonetheless enthusiastic. “I know him. I met him. He’s your soul mate!”

He’s not sure why he added this last bit of information. Obviously, Beatrice knows Jeremy is her soul mate. But she doesn’t seem bothered by his proclamation; she just smiles and nods her head, seemingly happy to have their relationship acknowledged in such a manner.

Louis rubs at his temple. He’s feeling a bit disoriented, as if his brain was slightly scrambled when he slid down the side of the hill.

“Probably still haven’t recovered from that fall,” he absently mumbles aloud.

“What?” Beatrice asks, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Louis, you fell? Are you all right?” She leans in, studying his face. “Your cheek is red and swollen. Did you hit your head? Did you land on your face?”

“I did fall, but I didn’t hit my head. I’m… Well… I sort of just hurt all over,” he answers truthfully, not wanting to lie to his friend. “But I’ll be all right, I just… I could use a little help, is all.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here.” Beatrice assures.

Louis looks back and forth between the three people that stand before him, unsure if should ask the question that’s on his mind, but deciding in the end that it’s in his best interest.

“This is probably a long shot, but did any of you bring a cup of coffee? Have a thermos maybe?” He carefully rubs his sore cheek. He’s so tired, but he also dreads the thought of having to slap himself back into alertness again. He can’t believe he’d willingly drink more of that black tar if given the chance. “Resident coffee, I mean.”

“You want Resident coffee,” Meghie questions, clearly surprised. She stands beside Beatrice; the four of them now huddled together on the side of the road. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t taste very good to an Intake.”

“Tastes like raw sewage boiled in battery acid,” Louis offers and then he clears his throat. “Um… I’ve already had some.” He looks up at Beatrice, just the hint of desperation in his tone when he adds, “It really helped.”

Beatrice raises her hand and discreetly pats her own cheek and Louis knows, without a doubt, that she understands the extreme measures he’s undertaken just to stay awake. He nods his head slightly in confirmation and Beatrice immediately places her hand over her heart in sympathy of Louis’ efforts.

“I’m so sorry, Louis. We didn’t bring any coffee,” Beatrice says, shaking her head. “But that was very smart _and_ very brave of you to drink something that was so repugnant to you, just to afford yourself a little extra… energy. It must have been a terrible experience.”

“I’ve never met an Intake who drank Resident coffee,” Randall marvels, before Louis can even respond. “You were right about this one, Beatrice, he does seem determined.”

“I drank it when I first left the Review Center,” Louis interjects. “My friend Ed –” but he stops speaking instantly when all three Residents lift up their palms to silence him. “Oh. Right. The less you know the better,” Louis mutters and he can feel the blush on his cheeks because why didn’t he remember that?

“You don’t have to share anything with any of us, Louis,” Beatrice offers, her voice calm. “We all know about your verdict and assume you have something you want to do before you leave this realm. But beyond that… we don’t want to know.” She turns to Randall then. “Come on, let’s help him cross the street and get him onto the tram.”

“Wait!” Louis exclaims, his body suddenly rigid with panic. “Why do you want me to get on the tram? Where are you planning on taking me?”

Louis knows he’s in bad shape, but there is absolutely no way he’s getting on that tram if they plan on taking him to The Regency. He will run away from them if he has to, even if it means pounding the pavement on his blistered feet and wounded legs. He’s not about to throw in the towel after having come so far.

“We’ll take you wherever you want to go, Louis. As long as it’s safe, of course,” Beatrice replies, her gentle tone reassuring.

“You will?” Louis asks and even though he knows that he can trust Beatrice, he can’t let anything get in the way of his plans to see Harry one last time and so he has to make certain. “This isn’t a trick?”

Beatrice smiles at him warmly in response.

“Louis, Residents don’t lie. I can assure you, if I tell you we’ll take you wherever you want to go – within reason,” she adds holding her hands up for emphasis. “Then you can rest assured that I intend on following through on my word. We would never trick you.” Louis exhales another long breath.

“Can you take me to the train station?” he asks. “It’s just a few more kilometers down the road and I – ”

“We know where the train station is,” Beatrice answers quietly, cutting Louis off. She squeezes his hip where she’s still holding on to him. “I told you both times when I ran into you and Harry in the park that I would be willing to help you if you needed my assistance, Louis. My friends and I will be happy to take you there.”

Her touch is soft as she moves her hand up to Louis’ elbow, guiding him across the road and towards the tram. Randall and Meghie climb aboard first and Randall sits in the driver’s seat, starting the ignition before Louis even climbs on board.

“How did you talk them into helping?” Louis wonders, nodding in the direction of the open doorway and indicating Beatrice’s partners in crime. “I can’t imagine you’d want to drag anyone else into this mess.”

“We’re sort of a team,” Beatrice answers, ushering Louis to step up into the tram before her. “We’ve worked together for well over a century and I knew they’d be willing to assist me in helping you, especially after I told them you had a soul mate.”

Louis’ feels his heart clench at the very mention of his soul mate. It’s one thing for him to be pining over Harry on his own; that’s heartbreaking enough. But when others bring up the fact that Louis has a soul mate, it’s just a further reminder of how rare and sacred his and Harry’s bond is and also how cruel the universe is to be ripping that bond apart.

Louis lets out a heavy sigh and climbs onboard the vehicle and Beatrice steps up immediately behind him. Meghie is sitting in the seat directly behind Randall and so Louis decides to sit across the aisle. But first, he steps to the side to allow Beatrice to take the seat next to the window.

“In fact,” Beatrice continues as she sits down, pointing at the man behind the steering wheel. “Randall was Harry’s Intake nurse.”

Louis makes a loud squeaking noise in surprise. The sound is so overly dramatic that it actually would be comical if Louis weren’t under such extreme duress. He sits down carefully in his seat, the muscles in his thighs and back stiff from his fall.

“You met Harry?” Louis asks, his voice breathless and coming out high-pitched and cracking.

“Well, I didn’t really _meet_ him per se. He was quite out of it. I could tell that he was positively gorgeous, though,” Randall comments shamelessly. “He looked like an absolute angel slumped over in that wheelchair. Poor thing, he had a very rough arrival.”

Louis remembers what he learned about Harry’s ski accident, how he came into this realm as a coma baby and how those who enter the Afterlife in such a manner experience a very traumatic transition from life into death.

“He _is_ an angel,” Louis replies. “He’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever known, or will _ever_ know. He’s perfect inside and out.” He pauses and swallows thickly and considers that Randall was the very first person to care for Harry in this realm. “Thank you for taking care of him, Randall,” Louis says, his voice sincere. “I’m glad you were there to help him when he first arrived.” A moment of sad silence hangs in the air, but then Randall clears his throat self-consciously.

“It was my pleasure, Louis,” he answers. Randall turns around fully in his seat then, his eyes darting between his three passengers and then settling on Louis’ own. “Now then, we’re off to the trains station?”

“To the train station!” Louis and Beatrice declare simultaneously. Louis turns to Beatrice and the two laugh and she takes his hand into her own, giving it a squeeze.

Louis can’t believe this is happening. He feels so incredibly lucky. The fact that Beatrice and her friends are willing to drive Louis to the train station is like a miracle. Normally, a three kilometer run would be no big deal for Louis and he knows, rationally that if he had to, he could still make the last stretch of this journey if it means getting to see Harry’s beautiful face just one more time. But still, his body is bruised and battered and he’s unbelievably exhausted. Getting a lift to the train station gates will save him both time and energy.

He looks at Beatrice and she smiles at him warmly. “Thank you,” he mouths and she nods her head in understanding.

“Let’s turn this beast around then,” Randall says on a laugh, the vehicle currently facing towards the city and away from the train station. He pulls the vehicle slowly off the brim and back onto the main road, driving toward the center dividing line so that he may back up and then turn the vehicle in the proper direction. He’s about to do just that when a pair of headlights break the horizon in the distance, indicating a tram is approaching from Judgment City. “Best stay on this course until that tram passes,” Randall offers. “We don’t need to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves.” He slows their tram to a virtual crawl, waiting for the approaching tram to pass by.

But it’s not just one tram approaching, because as soon as one set of headlights appear, another set becomes visible a short distance behind the first, and then another, and another. In all, there are four trams coming out from the city, forming a caravan that stretches across the open road.

“Haven’t seen any trams coming from the city all night,” Louis comments, surmising that the trams are on their way to pick up Intakes from the spas and recreation centers on the outskirts of town.

“Oh, dear,” Meghie whispers and Louis turns to look at her as she watches the trams get closer. “Those are the New Resident trams.”

Louis feels like he’s been doused in ice water, his body instantly flooded with panic.

“What?” he cries, his voice nearly a shout. “Those are New Resident trams?” He clutches his chest in a wayward attempt to control his heart from beating straight out of it, but the action is to little avail; his heart is suddenly pumping his blood so fast through his system that he feels lightheaded.

“Louis, you need to calm down,” Beatrice says, her tone even and soothing.

“How can I calm down?” he argues. “If those are New Resident trams then they’re on their way to the train station and if Harry is on one of those trams that means he’s going to reach the train station before I do! I won’t get to see him if he goes inside!”

Beatrice, Meghie, and Randall each immediately raise a hand to silence him and Louis stops talking. He knows they don’t want to learn of his exact plans, but he’s too beside himself to even care. His mind is spinning. He’s come so far. He’s worked so hard to get to this point and now everything is lost, yet again. It’s like this entire day has been an endless parade of carrots of hope being dangled in front of his eyes, only to have those carrots immediately snatched from his grasp nearly as fast as they appear. He honestly doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. Ed told Louis he needed to meet up with Harry _before_ Harry enters the train station. He knows that there are obstacles that are in place that will stop Louis in his tracks if he tries to pass through the train station’s entry gates and those obstacles are both painful and designed to knock him unconscious, rendering him unable to continue.

“ _The fight is gone after that_ ,” Ed had said and just the thought of coming so close to seeing Harry, only to fail at the homestretch makes Louis feel physically ill. Not for the first time today, his stomach clenches harshly and he feels the slow, familiar burning in the back of his throat, the taste of gastric juices and Resident coffee coating the inside of his mouth and tongue. It’s all too much.

“Do you want to give up?” Beatrice calmly asks, pulling Louis from his sad thoughts.

“What?” Louis replies, shocked by the question. “I… W-why would you suggest such a thing?”

“Because you look like you’re considering giving up, Louis. Which I think would be a shame, considering how hard you worked to make it this far. You have something you want to do before you return to Earth, and I for one think you should try your best to achieve that goal before you go. It will probably make your transition easier if you do – having taken care any unfinished business you may have, and all that.”

Louis never even thought of his situation this way. If he gets to see Harry again, maybe he won’t enter his next life completely traumatized about having to leave this realm, like he’s been warned could happen if he fights his fate. Once he sees Harry, he can actually _accept_ what is going to happen to him and maybe, he’ll even have an easier time taking a piece of Harry with him when he goes.

But Louis doesn’t _want_ to accept his fate, regardless of whether he gets the last kiss goodbye he’s so desperate for or not. Louis suddenly realizes that even if he sees Harry again and gets to kiss his sweet lips, he’s not going to simply stop fighting. He’s going to push to stay with him until the universe physically tears the two of them apart.

Louis Tomlinson has been aiming too low.

“I’m not giving up and I’m not giving in. I don’t care if I fall asleep hanging off the back of that train,” Louis declares, more to himself than to anyone else. “This is not the end.”

“Well, that’s certainly the fighting spirit,” Meghie pipes in, although her voice betrays a hint of reservation at Louis’ declaration.

Beatrice squeezes Louis’ knee.

“I’m proud of you, Louis,” she says. “But, please… just… no hanging off the back of trains, okay? I know you’re determined, but you need to leave this realm in the safest, most comfortable way possible. I understand that you don’t want to go, but it would be terrible for you to suffer a difficult transition.”

Just then, the entire tram is filled with light as the headlights from the first vehicle in the caravan shine brightly through the front windshield of the tram they are riding in. Louis jumps up from his seat and steps in front of Beatrice, practically lying across her lap so he can look out the window in an attempt to view the passengers in the passing car. The tram is similar in appearance to the other trams Louis has seen in Judgment City, but far more posh. Its body is shiny platinum with gold trim and the tires feature polished gold hubcaps. Emblazoned on the side of the tram in bright turquoise letters are the words “New Resident Transport,” each letter outlined in opal. The vehicle looks even fancier than the blue tram that Louis and Harry took on their way from and to the Review Center earlier in the day, but Louis barely registers any of these details, his eyes too busy scanning the windows to get a look at the passengers riding inside.

The first tram passes by and Louis cranes his neck in an attempt to get a glimpse of everyone, but he doesn’t see any familiar faces. He doesn’t spot the person he is looking for in the second tram either, but when the third tram approaches Louis gets a chill that shoots straight through his body and he positively _knows_ that Harry is on that vehicle.

It happens so fast.

Louis sees a blur of seated bodies, some old, some young, all with happy smiles on their faces, laughing and chatting and obviously ebullient about having advanced in the universe. But then Louis’s eyes land on him; he sees Harry and he lets out a lowly cry as his lover swiftly rolls past, the tram seeming to move at lighting speed, although in reality, it’s probably going no faster than forty kilometers per hour.

Harry’s head is pressed against the window glass and his face is tilted downwards, almost completely obstructed by a crown of chestnut ringlets that fall forward due to his hunched position in his seat. His shoulders are slumped forward and even though he passes by in what amounts to little more than an instant, Louis is certain that Harry is crying. He can see that his body is shaking and despite the fact that he and Harry are separated by both tons of metal and distance, Louis can practically feel Harry’s anguish and it makes his own heart splinter in his chest.

“Oh darling,” Louis whispers, his longing for the other man almost blinding. He just wants to get off the tram he’s currently riding in and chase Harry’s vehicle down and climb on board and into Harry’s arms. He can’t leave this realm without touching Harry one last time. He can’t return to Earth without first telling Harry it’s going to be all right, that he’ll come back to him, that he’ll love him forever. Harry is gone as fast as he appeared, the four trams zipping off into the distance before Louis can even fully register what just happened. But one thing Louis is certain of in this moment is that he doesn’t care how many more hills he has to slide down, or how many more blisters, bruises or cuts he has to endure. He doesn’t care how many electric energy fields he has to pass through, either. He will see his boy again. He bloody well will.

“We’ve got to get moving!” Louis shouts, pushing himself away from the window where he’s encroached onto Beatrice and offering her a silent apology. He frantically looks at the others in the tram cabin. “Please! Can we go now?”

“Yes, Louis,” Beatrice answers, her expression sad, but resolute. She turns to Randall. “Let’s get this thing moving, Randall. We can’t waste any more time.”

Randall pulls the tram into the center of the roadway and then slows it to a near stop to back it around. He sharply turns the wheel to the right so that the tram is now perpendicular to the direction of the ribbon of blacktop, its rear end hanging over the gravel lip that runs along the side of the road. He cuts the steering wheel again in the opposite direction, his hands moving one atop the other over its surface as he maneuvers the vehicle around and forward so that it now faces north towards the train station. Once they are headed in the proper direction, Randall presses his foot hard on the accelerator, causing Louis, Beatrice, and Meghie to jerk forward in their seats.

“Thank you!” Louis exclaims, unable to contain himself. He bounds out of his seat and takes the two steps to the front of the tram, grabbing on to the vertical floor-to-ceiling pole that is positioned near the entry platform, directly across from the driver’s seat. Louis wants to be right by the door when they pull up to the train station so that he can immediately jump out. Just the slightest glimpse of Harry as he passed by on the tram has got him burning with anticipation. He’s desperate to get to him, even though he knows it will be the last thing he does in this realm.

“I think it will be best if I drive past the station a dozen meters or so before stopping, to avoid being seen,” Randall suggests. “You’ll have to backtrack a little bit, but workers are sure to notice a tram parked right out front of the drive and it might raise suspicions. Will that work for you, Louis?”

“Whatever you think is best, mate,” Louis answers. He watches the landscape pass by through the tram’s windshield and he’s so happy that he doesn’t have to run this last stretch. He honestly doesn’t know how he would manage. He’s so sore and tired. “I’m just very grateful for the lift.”

“I think once we let Louis off, we should pull up a bit further down the road and park,” Meghie interjects. “If he should need help, then we’ll be close by.”

“That’s brilliant,” Beatrice agrees. “In fact, maybe once Louis has gone inside, I should follow behind.” She looks at Louis. “That way I can assist you to someplace comfortable should you start to fall asleep.”

“Beatrice, no!” Louis argues. “I don’t want any of you to do anything to compromise your positions any further. I’m so thankful for what you’ve already – ” Louis cuts himself off with a loud yawn that for a moment leaves him unsteady on his feet, another wave of exhaustion rolling over him. He grips onto the pole with his free hand, now using both for support and then he opens his eyes wide, willing himself back into alertness. Well, as alert as anyone who is slowly being pulled away from the peaceful realm of the Afterlife and thrust back into the chaos of life on Earth can possibly be.

Beatrice starts to open her mouth to speak, but this time it’s Louis who holds up his hand to stop her.

“I’ll be fine, Beatrice,” he contends. “You’ve already done more than enough to help me.”

“Louis – ” Beatrice starts, clearly intent on arguing her point, but she’s interrupted by a melodic chiming that resonates throughout the tram’s cabin, the noise so pure and clear it’s as if it’s being emitted in stereo surroundsound. “Oh no,” she sighs, and the chime immediately sounds again. She slides her hand beneath the hem of her shirt, raising it enough to reveal a small, tablet computer that is secured to her waistband via a sturdy clip holder, just as Meghie does the same. Randall keeps both hands on the steering wheel, but nonetheless states, “I’m assuming you ladies will share with me what that’s about.”

Louis watches nervously as Beatrice and Meghie tap at their devices, sensing that something is wrong, the simultaneous heavy sighs that both women let out as they read whatever information is displayed on those little screens guaranteeing as much.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice nearly breaking as apprehension floods his veins.

Slowly, Beatrice turns her device around so that it faces Louis and he lets out a loud gasp, appalled to see his own image displayed across the screen’s rectangular surface.

“Where are we, the bloody _Hunger Games_?” Louis shouts, full-blown panic now having officially replaced his simple apprehension. He leans in closer to view the image, but Beatrice gets out of her seat to show it to him properly.

The image is a close-up headshot of Louis’ face, behind him a simple blue background. There are a series of scrolling symbols and numbers at the bottom of the image that Louis recognizes as the same type of text that was on the documents Marcus was reading during Louis’ Review. The photograph is not unlike his driver’s license picture, except it’s animated like a gif: the image of Louis onscreen smiling broadly and then turning his head to the side to display his full profile before once again facing front. Louis comments as much, the shock evident as he dully adds, “I don’t remember that picture being taken, or filmed… whatever you want to call it.”

“You wouldn’t remember, Louis,” Beatrice answers. “You never posed for it, actually. It’s just a composite image of you that was put together on the day you arrived here.”

“What do all of those symbols mean? What does it say?” Louis demands, jabbing his index finger at the bold collection of characters at the bottom of the screen.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Beatrice asks and Louis nods his head rapidly in response. He momentarily looks behind him to peer out the windshield and ahead in the distance he can see a long line of lights and he’s certain they mark the entrance of the train station.

 _I’m almost there_ , he thinks to himself and the thought brings him a brief moment of comfort, despite the fact that Beatrice, Meghie, and no-doubt the rest of the Residents of Judgment City, all just received some sort of alert with Louis’ picture on it. He looks at Beatrice and she appears unsure if she should sure share the information that Louis has requested with him.

“Please tell me,” he asks again, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I need to know what I’m up against.” Beatrice nods her head in agreement and then reads the strange-looking text that’s printed onscreen.

“It reads, ‘Emergency Code One! Rogue Intake: Louis William Tomlinson. If seen, please immediately collect and transport to The Regency hotel or nearest hospitality center’.”

“Fucking hell,” Louis mumbles. “They want to kidnap me and drag me back to my hotel.”

“They want to make sure that you’re safe and they want to _assist_ to your hotel, Louis,” Beatrice clarifies.

“They’re sending out an alert to hunt me down!” Louis argues and he’s so tired he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to outrun any Resident who might come after him.

“Nobody is going to hunt you, Louis. Nobody will do anything to harm you or frighten you either,” Beatrice calmly responds. “If you’re spotted, whoever sees you will offer you help. They won’t even chase you if you run away, because it may cause undo stress and that can lead to a difficult transition. No Resident wants that for any Intake, rogue or not.”

“If someone sees me, they’ll just let me go?” Louis asks, completely incredulous. “That really doesn’t make any sense, Beatrice.”

“Louis, if you’re spotted it will only be a matter of time before you’re brought back because the alert will be updated and your exact location will be pinpointed. Eventually, you’ll be surrounded or cornered and you won’t have anywhere else to run.”

“Like a caged animal!” Louis replies, mortified. He scrubs his hands over his face and winces, his right cheek stinging at his own touch. Sadly, he adds, “I wonder who turned me in.”

“I promise you, whoever called for the alert was only doing so because they wanted to help you,” Meghie interjects, her voice not unkind. “We’ve all sworn an oath –”

“Oh, I know all about that bloody oath,” Louis interrupts, his tone sharp and biting. He can’t help but be agitated, even though none of this is Meghie’s fault and he certainly shouldn’t be directing his anger at her. “I’ve heard about that stupid oath from the very first day of my Review. The delegate during my trial made a point of telling me every sodding day that she swore an oath to the universe and that she was just doing her job, even though her job was obviously to destroy me. I’m so tired of hearing about that rotten oath.”

“It wasn’t a trial,” Randall offers in an obviously misguided attempt to change the subject. His tactics only serve to piss Louis off more.

“If it wasn’t a trial then how come there were justices who rendered a verdict? Why if it wasn’t a bloody trial am I’m being punished and being forced back to Earth? Why am I being sent a lifetime away from my soul mate?”

Louis barely finishes his last word before letting a loud, painful cry and pulling his fist up to his mouth, trying to bite back his own anguish. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, he’s just so frustrated and heartbroken and now he’s taken his hurt out on the very people who are trying to help him. It’s so unfair and wrong of him and he’s beyond ashamed.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Louis cries his voice thick, tears once again rolling down his cheeks as he begs his apology. “I don’t know why I’m behaving like this. You all are so wonderful and you’re trying to help me and I’m being an absolute ingrate.” His shoulders shake and he lets out another anguished sob. “Please forgive me!” He looks back and forth between the three Residents in the tram, raising his eyebrows and asking each to accept his apology, “Meghie? Randall, Beatrice?”

Beatrice wraps her arms around him then, pulling Louis into a one-armed hug. He’s still holding on to the vertical post with one hand for fear of falling; he’s positively unstable on his feet and the motion of the tram as it races over the blacktop isn’t making it any easier for him to stand upright.

“There, there, Louis,” Beatrice coos. “It’s all right.”

Meghie stands from her seat and comes over and joins in, wrapping her arms around both Beatrice and Louis, he own eyes laced with tears as she comforts, “You’re irritable because you’re getting tired, Louis. We know you didn’t mean to snap at us.”

“That’s right, Louis,” Randall offers, his voice understanding. “We all know why you’re so frustrated. From what Beatrice tells us, you deserved to pass your Review. The fact that you’re standing here after having the courage to walk all the way from Judgment City, even though your body is already preparing to transition… Well, that’s proof enough to me that she was right about you.”

“I… thank you,” Louis answers, humbled that they’re being so kind and also grateful they’re letting him off so easy. Every person who has helped him on this journey broke an oath that they swore to the universe in order to do so, and Louis realizes that he shouldn’t have been so flippant about something so sacred. “I was wrong about what I said about your oath,” he continues, swallowing jagged breaths as he speaks. “I know how important it is and I know the whole universe runs properly because Residents have the integrity to adhere to that oath. This has been such a terrible day, well parts of it anyway,” Louis adds, because there were definitely parts of the day that were amazing and more beautiful and perfect than anything he’d ever experienced. He closes his eyes for a moment, visions of creamy, tattooed skin, green eyes, and raspberry lips flashing behind his lids. “I’m just all out of sorts and I never should have taken it out on any of you.”

“It’s okay, Louis,” Beatrice reiterates.

“Louis,” Randall interrupts. “You might want to turn around now and look out the windshield. We’ve reached the station.”

Louis does as he’s told, separating himself from the two women and hanging on to the pole as he turns his body forward and peers out the tram’s windshield, but the fog that he noticed earlier when he was scrambling up the hillside has suddenly reappeared and it’s starting to get thick, rising slowly off the ground and obstructing parts of the roadway ahead.

“Hard to see through all that fog,” he comments, his voice still a little rough from his latest meltdown. Beatrice draws in a surprised breath behind him and he turns back to look at her. “What? What did I say?” he questions.

“It seems foggy out to you?” she asks, her expression curious and worried.

“Well, yeah,” Louis replies. “I’ve never seen it so misty here before. Of course, you’re probably used to it.”

He turns back around and looks out the window again and he can see that they’re approaching the main entrance to the station, the fog a bit lighter beneath the harsh lights that illuminate the gold fencing and massive archway that heralds its entry point on this quiet, country road. Beyond the archway, Louis can make out a long, white drive that stretches for at least two or three hundred meters, behind which stands the main gates to the station itself, the building a massive, regal looking structure that looks wholly otherworldly and Louis thinks to himself that given that it’s a train station used to transport the dead in the Afterlife, “otherworldly” is quite apt.

“Oh my god,” Louis whispers, because this is it. All of his efforts since his verdict was read are about to finally pay off. He’s about to see Harry again, and he never would have gotten here so quickly if it weren’t for the three people on this tram. In fact, he never would have made it _at all_ if so many people hadn’t offered to help him along the way and he’s overwhelmed with gratitude.

Meghie and Randall were virtual strangers and yet they put themselves on the line to help Louis, and Beatrice has shown him nothing but kindness since his arrival. He remembers being so frustrated that first time he saw her at the end of his first, full day of death, because when she approached him in the park he was about to share his first kiss with Harry. Now, he realizes that the fact that she interrupted them has proven to be a gift. In fact, both times that she ran into Louis and Harry she offered to help him, without any reservations whatsoever. He might be angry about his verdict and brokenhearted over having to leave his soul mate, but at least his time in the Afterlife has been spent with the very best people he could ever hope to know. He turns around again, standing so that he’s facing Beatrice, Meghie, and angled as such so that Randall can see him too.

“I don’t know how to even begin to thank all of you,” Louis says, his voice heavy with sadness. He swipes at his nose with his tupa sleeve and his nostrils are inundated with the wretched odor of Resident coffee and it gives him a little jolt of energy, which he’ll happily accept. He needs all the help he can get to stay awake, the exhaustion that he’s been trying to keep at bay now rolling in like the fog that’s only getting heavier outside the tram’s windows. “I can never repay you for what you’ve done for me.”

“It was nothing, Louis. We were happy to help,” Beatrice answers.

“It _was_ something,” Louis counters. “I might not remember you all when I return to Earth, but you’ll have my gratitude forever.”

Randall pulls the tram past the gate and just like he promised, he drives ahead thirty meters or slow and then slows the vehicle to a stop, applying the parking break.

“This is it,” he says, smiling at Louis, who offers him an appreciative smile in return.

Suddenly, Louis remembers the alert that’s been sent out about him and he once again feels a rush of panic.

“The alert!” he says, eyes wide as he looks at Beatrice. “Did everyone get that?”

“Yes, Louis,” Beatrice answers. “It was sent out to all of the city’s Residents, so you’ll need to be very careful.”

“How do I do that?” Louis asks, his voice frantic. “They’ll all be on the lookout for me!”

“Well, that’s true,” Beatrice concedes. “But the people who work at the station still have their jobs to carry out, so they will also be distracted with their work. Just… try to remain inconspicuous.” She looks him over, her voice lower when she says, “Given the state of your tupa, that might prove a bit of a challenge, but just try to avoid making contact with anyone.”

Inspired by her words, Louis doesn’t think twice. He whips off his tupa belt and hands it to Beatrice, who looks at him in surprise at the gesture.

“Might want to cover your eyes, folks,” he offers, and then without giving anyone the actual time to do so, he reaches down and peels his tupa right off his body, standing in the tram in nothing but his pants and shoes as he turns the garment inside out.

“Louis!” Beatrice gasps, clearly not having covered her eyes at all. “You’re really hurt! Your legs are all banged up and bloody.”

“I’ll be all right,” Louis assures her, the adrenaline starting to pump through his veins in anticipation of seeing Harry again. He’s suddenly jumpy and excited, his desire to see his boy’s beautiful face one last time making his heart beat harder in his chest and causing butterflies to dance in his belly. “I just need to get to –”

“Don’t tell us!” Beatrice, Meghie, and Randall say simultaneously and Louis really doesn’t understand what the big deal would be to hear his plans at this point. They’ve driven him to the train station, they saw him break down when the New Resident Tram passed, and they know he’s separated from his soul mate and that that soul mate is Harry. Obviously, if they even slightly tried they could use their big brains and put two-and-two together to figure out that he intends on going to see him. But for some reason, they don’t want to know what he’s doing. Louis doesn’t have time ponder their logic anymore however; he’s got to get to Harry.

Louis pulls his now inside out garment back over his head, the splatters of coffee and deep green grass stains significantly lighter on the inside of the tupa than they are on its front, and thus the stains are far less conspicuous. The bloodstain where Louis cut his leg on the marble tile is much brighter on the inside of the material, but luckily that spot is near the bottom of his skirt and thus not as readily visible. He reaches out to Beatrice, taking back his belt and securing it around his waist. He straightens out the garment then and holds out his arms, asking Beatrice how he looks.

“You’re absolutely brilliant, Louis” Beatrice marvels, looking him over. “Your tupa looks far more presentable now.” Louis grins and preens a bit, proud for coming up with such a simple, but easily overlooked solution to the problem of his soiled clothing. “No one would even know it’s inside out unless they gave you a proper look,” she coos, and clearly Beatrice is just as proud of Louis as Louis is of himself.

“What about the drive that leads into the train station?” Louis asks. The driveway is a wide-open stretch that runs along the southern edge of the station grounds. Surely, Louis will be easily spotted by anyone entering or exiting the station if he runs along that path to get to the station’s main entrance.

“Hmmm… I didn’t think of that,” Beatrice responds. She looks at her watch. “The New Resident trams have already passed us, so there won’t be anyone else going into the station for the evening, and there won’t be anyone going out, at least not for the time being.” Louis opens his mouth to interject, but Beatrice keeps talking, clarifying her statement. “The trams are used to transport the employees of the station back into the city at the end of their shifts. There won’t be any trams crossing your path on that driveway, Louis, but it’s very well lit and you’d still be wise to keep a low profile.”

“Okay,” Louis says. “Keep a low profile… I can do that. Maybe I’ll run in the – ”

Louis immediately stops speaking when Beatrice holds up her hand up to silence him.

“I’m sure you’ll figure out the best way to enter the grounds and complete whatever task you have in mind, Louis,” Beatrice says, making it clear that she doesn’t want to know of his plans. “You’ve obviously had to be on your toes to make it this far. You should be very proud of yourself.”

“Thank you, Beatrice,” Louis replies, humbled by her praise. He looks out the window of the tram, observing the fog that is hovering over the grassy landscape and he realizes he needs to be on his way. “I need to get going now.” He throws his arms around Beatrice in a farewell hug; overwhelmed with gratitude for all that she’s done for him. He hugs Meghie next, and then Randall gets out of his seat and he gives Louis a hug too. Randall opens the doors to the tram and after giving Beatrice a quick kiss on the cheek, Louis takes the step down to the lower platform that leads onto the blacktop roadway and ultimately, to Harry.

“Louis!” Beatrice calls, just as Louis is about to step out into the open air. He turns to look at her and he nods, waiting for her to speak. A small, reassuring smile plays across Beatrice’s lips. “I believe in you, Louis,” she says, her voice sure.

“I believe in you, too!” Meghie pipes and she clasps her hands together as if she’s fawning over some adorable puppy. “I believe in you, three!” Randall adds, his voice sincere, but he can’t help but huff a little laugh at his own joke. Louis shakes his head and smiles so wide it reaches his eyes, which disappear into happy crinkles.

“Thank you,” he says, one last time. Then he steps off the tram and into the dark of the night.

******

“Your parents were certainly a hoot,” Rose says, smiling at the wife. She leans over and helps fluff the wife’s pillow and then adjusts the heating pad so that it’s positioned directly against the wife’s lower back, the source of constant pain since her contractions began early in the evening. “I swear, I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.”

“They’re really wonderful,” the wife agrees, letting out a slow breath, her last contraction having just ended and her body still struggling to recover. The pain was so much worse this time, but finally, it ebbs almost completely and she resumes speaking. “This baby will be their sixth grandchild, but I think they’re just as excited for this one as they were when my sister gave birth to their first, ten years ago.”

 _Because they never thought I’d actually be able to have a baby_ , the wife thinks, but she doesn’t say those words out loud. Besides, she knows her parents are thrilled about the new addition; far beyond all of the troubles the wife has suffered carrying a child to term.

“Of course they are!” Rose agrees. “What’s more wonderful than a new baby to spoil?”

“My mum tells me that having grandchildren is like getting to bask in all the joys of being a parent without all the work,” the wife says, smiling softly. “No nappies to change, no midnight feedings, just… cuddles and love.”

“Cuddles and love,” Rose repeats. “I like that.”

“Your husband’s a good one too,” Peggy interjects. She’s standing by the fetal heart rate monitor, looking over the readout and once satisfied she turns back to the wife. “It’s obvious he’s positively crazy over you. I can’t believe he actually left the room long enough to walk your parents back to reception. It looked like it physically pained him to leave your side for even a minute.”

The wife feels a rush of warmth at Peggy’s words. Her husband _is_ crazy over her, and she’s crazy over him, too. Falling in love with him was the best thing that’s ever happened to her and she knows he feels the same. After all their years together they’re still sappy and lovesick, the shiny bubble of a being in new romance having never dissipated. He’s her best friend and has been her rock during hard times and good times alike. She never would have gotten through the heartbreak of her earlier losses without him by her side and even though he’s suffered his own unimaginable heartaches in the past week, he’s nonetheless constantly doted on her, making sure she was all right despite hurting so terribly himself.

“He’s had a horrible week,” the wife comments, more to herself than to the nurses in the room.

“Oh, that’s a shame, dear. Everything all right?” Rose asks, and the wife looks up, startled. She didn’t even realize she’d spoken her words out loud. She probably shouldn’t share such personal things with these virtual strangers, but they are starting to feel like team members on this little birthing journey and not only that, but also she’s so proud of her husband and the way he’s handled himself through his grief that she wants to brag on him a little, to let these two women know just how wonderful he is.

“Well, um… it all started last Saturday when my husband got word that one of his good friends was killed in an automobile accident,” she says and she feels a sharp pang of grief, both for her husband’s heartache and for her own loss of the man she’s come to consider as a friend over the years.

“Oh my god!” Rose cries.

“That’s awful!” Peggy adds.

“His name was ‘Louis’ and he was just… the _nicest_ person,” the wife says, searching for the proper words to describe her husband’s friend and failing miserably. Louis was funny and kind and he just… _cared_ for other people and it’s a cruel thing that he was taken away so young.

The wife had actually only met Louis a dozen or so times: she and the husband moved away from London within a year of their first date and so they didn’t get to see him that often. But still, her husband kept in contact with him and she always enjoyed those times when they visited London or when Louis was back in Doncaster to see his family and they were able to reconnect for a few hours over dinner or pints at their local.

Louis was an absolute sweetheart and as she looks at the bear that sits at her feet, she is suddenly engulfed in the bittersweet memory of how she wanted to set Louis up with the friend who gifted the bear to her, certain the two were absolutely perfect for one another. Both men were living in London and their personalities seemed like an ideal match. God; they would have made an absolutely gorgeous couple. But sadly, after Louis was divorced and actually available, her friend was already in a relationship with a miserable person the wife could barely stomach. The wife never even got the chance to bring up the subject of a blind date with either of them, much less introduce the two.

 _And now that opportunity is gone forever_ , the wife thinks to herself, her heart once again heavy with sadness.

“So, we learned of Louis’ passing late Saturday afternoon,” she starts, beginning to the tell them the rest of the reason why the past few days have been so difficult, but then her mind flashes on a happy memory of Louis and it’s such a sweet story she decides to share it with them first.

“You know,” she begins again. “I’ve always credited Louis for the fact that I fell in love with my husband.” She shakes her head and lets out a little sight and despite all of the loss that weighs heavy on her heart, she nonetheless smiles recounting the memory.

“How so?” Peggy asks, her voice gentle.

“Well, long story short, Louis and my husband played footie together. My husband actually stood me up on our first date because of Louis.”

“He stood you up for his friend?” Rose asks, but she’s smiling and the wife already knows she’s anticipating a good story.

“Yep,” the wife answers. “He – ” She abruptly stops speaking when she feels a sharp twitch in her abdomen and she draws in a surprised breath.

“Everything all right?” Rose questions. “Are you hurting?”

“Just felt a little… tug in my belly,” the wife replies. She shifts on the mattress, rocking her hips back and forth to get more comfortable. “Was nothing really,” she answers, the pain now passed. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Rose asks.

“Absolutely,” the wife assures.

“You’ll let me know if it happens again?” Rose presses

“I will. It was nothing, honestly. I’m fine,” the wife promises. She knows she’s now due for another contraction and she thinks how wonderful it would be if that twitch she just experienced in her belly was the worst of it. She looks up at the nurses, continuing her story. “Okay, where were we?”

“You were just telling us how you ended up falling in love with a man who stood you up,” Peggy interjects, her tone teasing.

“Oh! Right,” the wife continues. “Well, I was really angry. He didn’t even call. I went to the restaurant where we were supposed to meet, sat in a huge booth by myself and waited. When I finally received a text from John, all it said was, ‘My mate needs me, can we reschedule’?” The wife rolls her eyes and smirks at the memory. “I’d already been waiting over twenty minutes at that point, was halfway through a breadbasket and a dozen sympathetic looks from the wait staff, and there I sat: a woman scorned. I was so furious that he stood me up that I completely ignored his message and was absolutely determined _not_ to reschedule our date.”

“You weren’t going to give him another chance?” Rose asks. She gently lifts up the wife’s wrist and carefully runs her finger along the bandage that secures the IV catheter to the wife’s hand, pressing the white, adhesive strip back in place where it has pulled a bit loose.

“No, I was not,” the wife confirms. “He called me repeatedly begging for a second chance, sent me flowers, put little love notes on my windshield, and I ignored all of his efforts. He had pursued me for nearly a month before I agreed to go out with him in the first place. He wouldn’t accept the fact that I wasn’t interested in dating anyone because I was too focused on my career. And then when I finally relented and agreed to a dinner date with him, he stood me up! I assumed that the reason was because the chase was won and the game was over for him...” The wife shrugs her shoulders and smiles at the nurse. “I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

“So what made you finally decide to see him again?” Peggy asks. She walks over to the side of the bed, standing next to Rose, the two women giving the wife their full attention, but before the wife can answer she feels another contraction coming on and she holds up her hand, pointing her index finger and then dropping her head as she draws in a slow, deep breath.

Without further prompting, Rose goes to check the fetal heart rate monitor and Peggy takes up the wife’s hand into her own, instructing the wife to breathe and offering little words of encouragement as the pain builds to an almost unbearable degree, reaches a crescendo, and then, after what seems like hours but in reality is only sixty seconds or so, finally subsides.

“Another good one,” Rose comments, returning to the wife’s bedside. “I suspect you’ll be holding your baby before too long.”

“There’s nothing I’m looking forward to more in the world,” the wife slowly answers, panting out a heavy breath as she tries to recover from the latest onslaught. She’s never spoken truer words and she rubs her belly in anticipation.

“Well, we’re all looking forward to your little one’s arrival,” Peggy offers. “But first, I want to hear the rest of this story. I hate a cliffhanger! Why did you agree to go on a date with your husband when he’d already stood you up once?”

“Louis came to see me,” the wife replies, the aftershocks of her contraction now fully dissipated. “He showed up at my office unannounced and when my secretary told him he would need to make an appointment, he sweet-talked her into changing my schedule around and penciling him in right then and there. When she escorted him into my office, I absolutely had no idea who he was, but good Lord, he was a charmer… and so gorgeous! Half my coworkers were gathered outside my door just to gape at him.” The wife laughs thinking about how Louis stood in front of her desk, opened up the large leather portfolio he was carrying, and then proceeded to produce a series of storyboards detailing all of the reasons she should give her future husband another chance. “Louis worked in advertising and so he used his skills to put on a very professional and very persuasive presentation on why I was crazy not to date John. Complete with storyboards.”

“He didn’t!” Rose says, her voice delighted.

“Oh, yes. He did,” the wife replies. "I have to admit, by the second storyboard, my resolve was already starting to wear thin. But when he got to the final storyboard explaining why John missed our date, I was sold.”

“Aw, that’s lovely,” Peggy offers. “Louis sounds like he was a fun person. He must have really cared about your husband to go through so much trouble just to win him a date.”

“He did,” the wife answers, her voice tinged with sadness. “Of course, he cared about all of the people in his life that way.” Softly, she adds, “I still have those storyboards.”

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense!” Rose interjects, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Why did your husband stand you up?”

“Oh, right!” the wife replies, getting back to the subject at hand. “He stood me up because he and another friend were taking Louis out for pints.”

Both Rose and Peggy’s faces fall.

“That… that doesn’t sound like a great reason,” Peggy says carefully. “I mean… sorry. Just… he stood you up so he could go drinking with his mates?”

“Yes,” the wife smiles. “But the reason they went out for pints was because they were keyed-up and stressed. The three of them had just quit their football team in protest when the other members wouldn’t let a woman join their club.”

“Oh!” Peggy grins. “Well, that’s a good reason.”

“I respect a man who respects women,” Rose adds.

“I guess it was a pretty brutal ordeal. Louis told me it was really ugly in the locker room, lots of really horrible, sexist things being said about the woman. John and their other friend, Liam, even had to stop Louis from getting into a fight with one of their teammates. In the end, the team voted against letting her join, which was utterly ridiculous because she was a brilliant player, and Louis quit in protest. He told me John and Liam immediately followed suit and that they felt so badly for what Louis had gone through trying to defend the woman that they took him out for pints to take his mind off the incident. When I learned all that had happened, the way that John stood up for his friend and a woman he’d only just met… Well, I really wanted to give him another chance. Couldn’t wait to go out with him, actually. So I agreed to a date with John and it was so successful that five months later we ran off to Paris and eloped. It was the best decision of my life.” The wife rubs her hand over her belly. “Now, here we are years later, getting ready to have our first child, but we wouldn’t even be together if Louis hadn’t come to see me that day.”

“That’s so wonderful,” Rose comments, and she wipes at her eyes, clearly affected by the wife’s story.

“You’ve got yourself one of the good ones,” Peggy reiterates.

“I really do,” the wife agrees.

“Sounds like Louis was one of the good ones too,” Rose quietly adds.

“He really was a good person,” the wife answers sadly. “It’s been a terrific loss.”

“I’m so sorry your husband lost his friend. That you _both_ did,” Rose says, and Peggy nods her head in sad agreement.

“Thank you. I am too.” The wife draws in a heavy breath, preparing herself to tell the nurses the rest of the story. “But… there’s more. Losing Louis was just the – ”

The wife stops midsentence when the husband walks back into the room. She doesn’t want to upset him with the events of last Saturday, so she drops the subject entirely. Rose and Peggy both smile at him like he’s a saint and he gives them a confused smile in return.

“Got mummy and dad settled, love?” the wife asks.

“I did, and I told them they should go on to the house and get a bit of rest. But your mum is a stubborn one and I think they’ll be here until the baby arrives,” he replies. He looks tired, but his voice is nonetheless upbeat and the wife knows that he’s looking forward to this child’s arrival just as much as she is. He needs this little miracle. They both do. “When I left them, they were arguing over the baby’s sex. Your mum is convinced we’re having a girl, and your dad is quite certain that he’s going to have another grandson who will share his middle name.”

A thought strikes the wife, but she doesn’t voice it just then. It will be a sweet surprise for her husband when their child arrives.

“I can’t believe you didn’t want to know the sex,” Rose comments. “I’m always intrigued when parents don’t want to know something so major ahead of time. I don’t think I could handle the suspense.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t want the _drugs_ ,” Peggy teases. “You’ll find out the baby’s sex soon enough, but a good old fashioned epidural would make the time pass a lot more comfortably until you do.”

“I’ve always wanted to have a natural childbirth,” the wife starts, but she doesn’t finish her thought because she feels the burning crawl beginning in her lower back and the onset of cramping in her abdomen that signals another contraction is rolling in. It’s been barely five minutes since the last one ended. They’re coming in faster, harder, and they’re lasting longer.

The wife reaches out for her husband’s hand and he quickly takes hers in his own, holding gently while she squeezes his fingers impossibly tight and stares at the colorful teddy bear that still sits at her feet.

“Can’t believe I didn’t want the drugs either,” the wife grunts between deep breaths, temporarily revising her earlier stance on a natural childbirth. “Don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“You’re doing so well, Jess,” her husband coos. “Remember, you can change your mind at any time. You don’t have to go natural if you’re not feeling up to it, no one will judge you if you need help dealing with the pain.”

“I just want what’s best for the baby,” the wife says on an exhale. But the truth is she could really use some relief about now. The pain of the last few contractions has been almost blinding and as this one begins to reach its peak, she draws in a stunned breath, vaguely aware that Rose has called Peggy over to look at the read-out on the fetal heart rate monitor. She’s squeezing her husband’s hand so fiercely now she can hear his fingers crunch together and he actually winces in pain, but she’s certain it’s nothing compared to the pain that is searing the base of her spine and clamping on her uterus. It’s so intense that she starts to feel dizzy and for a moment, her vision blurs and her eyes cross, the little bear sitting at the foot of her bed suddenly appearing to be one of three.

“Breathe,” her husband encourages and the wife takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. Finally, mercifully, the pain of the contraction starts to subside. She lets go of the husband’s hand and he immediately flexes his fingers. “Holding on a little tight, Jess,” he says, his voice light, but by the way he begins stroking his digits with his free hand, she knows she’s actually hurt him.

“I’m s-s-sooorrryyy!” she stutters on a wail, completely overtaken with emotion. She doesn’t know what’s happening, but she feels totally irrational and panicked all of a sudden and from the look of shock on her husband’s face, he has no idea what’s gotten into her either.

“It’s all right, love,” he pleads. He once again takes up the wife’s hand into his own, using the other to gently wipe the tears that are suddenly streaming down her face. “Jess, I’m fine. Why are you crying, hon? Tell me what’s wrong.”

But the wife can’t even form words to answer because the dizziness she experienced during her contraction has suddenly gotten worse and she feels like the whole room is spinning.

“I’m going to be sick,” she moans and Peggy rushes to the cabinet and grabs and emesis basin, but she’s not fast enough and the wife leans forward and begins to vomit all over the top of her bedding, the husband not letting go of her hand, even to avoid the spray.

The wife hasn’t eaten in hours and really all that comes out is water and thick yellow stomach bile, but it burns the back of her throat and her blanket is covered in sick and she starts to cry harder.

“There, there. Lots of women get sick during childbirth, dear,” Rose offers. “We’ll get you cleaned up straight away.”

“Oh, Jessica,” the husband says, his voice tender. He presses a kiss to the wife’s forehead and with his free hand gently wipes at her tears. “I’m so sorry you’re feeling so poorly. But, I promise you; you’re going to be all right. We’re going to get you through this.”

The wife looks up at him and he wraps his arm behind her back, supporting her upright as she slumps against his shoulder. Peggy comes over then and strips off the wife’s sheet and blanket, moving the rainbow teddy bear to the countertop as she cleans up the mess. Rose returns with a warm, wet flannel and hands it to the husband and he carefully helps the wife wipe her mouth before using the cloth to clean off the little spatter of vomit that has splashed onto the back of his hand and the cuff of his sleeve. The wife’s hospital gown is clean, the spray having missed her garment entirely when she leaned forward to expel the contents of her stomach, so it only takes a minute or two to get her properly cleaned and to replace the top sheet and blanket.

The wife still feels nauseous and lightheaded though and she’s just about to tell Peggy as much when another contraction comes crashing in and how is this even possible when the last contraction has barely finished? She groans loudly as the pain once again starts firing up her back and pressing in on her abdomen with such a force that it takes her breath away.

Rose, who is standing by the fetal heart rate monitor, looks at the readout and her voice is eerily calm as she says, “Oh, dear. She’s having another one and it’s even stronger than the last. It’s been little more than four minutes since her last contraction ended.” She looks over to the wife and smiles, but the wife is so bleary with pain that the gesture barely registers. “We’re going to need to check your cervix again. I have a feeling you’ll be pushing very soon, Mrs. Smith.”

“Jess,” the wife corrects, her voice coming out stilted as she attempts to gain her bearings.

“Jess,” Rose repeats, nodding her head. She looks over at the other nurse. “Peggy, would you send out a page for Dr. Cooper?”

The wife watches as Peggy goes to the telephone that is mounted on the wall by the door, punches in a few numbers and then speaks into the handset, her movements appearing almost in slow motion.

“He’s on his way,” she declares when she hangs up the line. “He was just checking in on another patient.”

“I don’t feel so well,” the wife mumbles, the pain so unbearable she feels faint.

“Breathe, Jess,” her husband encourages, but his words sound strange and distant. The wife tries to draw in a deep breath but the pain is so overwhelming that all she can do is cry out as her husband continues talking to her in soothing tones, his words barely registering.

She blinks heavily and then she feels it: warm liquid spilling out from between her legs and pooling beneath her body. She makes a surprised, sharp noise at the sensation because her water broke hours earlier and she realizes she must have wet the bed. She’s laying on a huge, sanitary padding measuring nearly a meter in length and width and she can feel the moisture as it seeps into the top layer of the cotton material, her butt and the back of her thighs now wet from the liquid.

“I’ve wet myself,” she blurts out on a breath, the pain so excruciating that she doesn’t feel slightly embarrassed by the proclamation.

“That’s perfectly normal,” Peggy assures her and she immediately opens one of the nearby cabinets and removes something. “Women often lose control of their bodily functions during childbirth. It’s a messy business. That’s why your mattress is covered.” Peggy approaches the bed and the wife is mildly aware that she’s carrying a folded sheet of sanitary padding to replace the one the wife just soiled. The husband steps aside so Peggy can attend to the wife but he doesn’t let go of her hand, rather he stretches his arm out to maintain the connection while the nurse takes care of the bedding.

The wife feels another short burst of warmth flow between her legs but this time the sensation barely registers because everything is getting blurry and the room around her is starting to narrow into nothingness. She can feel her top sheet and blanket being pulled back and then she’s momentarily startled by Peggy’s voice, loud and sharp and echoing in the darkness.

“We need Dr. Cooper. Now!”

The wife starts to slip under.

 

 


	21. This is Not the End (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew that I wrote such a ridiculously long chapter that it couldn't be posted in one shot? That wasn't maddeningly frustrating at five in the morning... Le Sigh.

Louis is running.

His muscles ache, his legs and feet raw and bleeding from all of the injuries he’s sustained on this seemingly endless journey, and worst of all, the exhaustion that he’s been trying to keep at bay is now weighing heavily on him and threatening to bring him to his knees at any moment.

But still, he forces himself onward, each strike of his right and left foot on the blacktop carrying him one step further away from the tram that dropped him off on the roadside and one step closer to Harry.

He’s headed back in the direction of Judgment City, but only for the next thirty meters or so when he’ll make the turn off the road and into the train station. To his left is the golden fencing that runs along this stretch of the roadway and contains the grounds of the station, its glittering surface shimmering beneath the night sky. To his right is the coastline, the sound of waves lightly lapping on the shore playing in his ears, although he can no longer see the pebble-covered beach or even the water for that matter, the fog now far too dense along the bank.

Louis keeps moving.

The grassy landscape behind the fencing is lush and green, but it eventually gives way to a semi-circular drive and small carpark, behind which stands the station itself: an impressive structure topped with a massive dome, the building’s façade a shimmering white and embellished with same brilliant gold as the fence. Louis wonders if the fencing and building decorations are constructed of _actual_ gold; they certainly appear to be and this is the Afterlife, after all. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if he happened upon a pearly gate once he makes his way through the main entrance, although Marcus had assured him repeatedly that this is _not_ Heaven.

_“You’re my Heaven, Louis.”_

The fog seems to be less heavy in front of the building, but maybe that’s because there are so many lights everywhere: lining the main drive into the station, surrounding the semi-circular drop-off and small carpark, and shining up the sides of the massive white and gold building itself, all of them making it easier for Louis to discern the area ahead, despite the swirling white mist that hugs the ground and lingers in the air.

He tries to remain positive, but nonetheless prepared, concentrating on what he’s going to do if Harry has already gone inside that grand edifice. Ed had told him that there were measures in place to stop Intakes from entering the station, but Louis is not going to let those measures compromise his plans. He’s already running on feet covered in open sores: the leaf that he wrapped around the back of his left ankle having been pulled loose at some point before his last tumble down the hillside and that heel now as blistered as badly as the bottom of his right foot. His shin is split open and he can feel the tug of his broken skin with every step he takes, the dull ache of the bruising only adding to the misery. In addition, the entire side of his left leg is covered in gashes, scrapes and bruises from the top of his hip down to the bottom of his ankle, while his right calf is scratched and cut where he slid under the hydrangea bush. Not to mention the fact that he’s wearing filthy clothing turned inside out, which is not the most comfortable thing in the universe, and his skin itches where the dirt, grass and coffee stains rub against his body as he moves. His entire being is an absolute mess and yet he’s pushing through the discomfort and exhaustion because it will all be worth it if he gets to touch Harry again, even for only a second. Louis is certainly not going to let anything stop him at this point in the game. He’s determined to keep fighting until the very end.

Finally, Louis approaches the entrance to the two-lane main drive that leads to the station. There is a huge archway suspended over the entire egress to the long driveway and it looks like something one might see in art history books, or the most sacred of holy lands. The arch measures at least seven meters in width and no less than eight meters in height and is far more majestic than any structure Louis had ever seen on Earth, or even during his short time in Judgment City. Louis doesn’t have time to waste, but he nonetheless finds himself momentarily pausing in his tracks to take in the stunning structure.

The arch is comprised of smooth marble and embellished with ornate gold components, its piers rising on either side of the road in the form of two pairs of grand, Corinthian columns, their capitals blooming with exquisitely carved acanthus leaves, the architrave a wide berth of solid gold, above which is a frieze of white marble. The curved pediment that comprises the top of the arch boasts a three-dimensional relief depicting an Intake’s journey through every phase of their brief time in this sacred realm, the figures that make up this tympanum sizeable enough to be easily seen from the ground below. The first portion of the relief features a row of three Intakes, sitting in wheelchairs as they’re pushed through a winding corridor, rows of similarly situated Intakes depicted in low relief behind them. The scene flows into an Intake awakening on their first full day of death, followed by a scene of the same Intake undergoing a Review, with the Intake depicted sitting in a screening chair and their Advocate seated at a table as the Intake’s life is presented on a viewing screen. There are two scenes interspersed among the rest that feature the Intake enjoying the extracurricular activities of Judgment City, including one boasting a grand smorgasbord of food on which the Intake is feasting with others, and another where the Intake is relaxing in a spa bath. Towards the end of the panel there is a depiction of the Intake presumably receiving their verdict, the Chief Justice reading from a sheaf of papers not unlike the way Chief Justice Wen did when Louis heard his own verdict. The final scene on this grand archway is of that same Resident seated within a train car, their face content as the train pulls out of this very station, taking them to the next realm.

“Fucking hell,” Louis mutters, because up until the last two panels, that sculptural relief portrayed his own experiences in the Afterlife fairly accurately. He can’t help but feel bitter that his verdict wasn’t the same as the marble figure of the Intake that towers on the pediment above him. “They need a relief of some hopeless romantic sliding down a hillside or drinking putrid Resident coffee to make a _real_ statement on that arch,” he grouses, unreasonably offended considering the beauty of the structure. Ileana had argued that Louis was afraid of love, but he knows that that reasoning couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s not afraid of love at all, especially when the love he has is shared with someone as pure and wonderful as Harry.

“I’m not afraid of love,” he mumbles, but then he shakes off his disappointment, taking a deep breath and then running beneath the massive archway. After travelling six meters or so, he emerges from the confines of the curved marble walls and onto the main driveway that leads to the station, deciding not to give the relief another thought. He’s on a mission, after all, and he can’t waste time being consumed by anger.

 _I have to get to Harry_.

The drive is long and is paved with white brick that has an almost bluish cast that glimmers beneath the lights that line either side of the path. As with every other foot-pavement, driveway, and roadway that Louis has traveled on in Judgment City, this drive is edged with abundant flowerbeds overflowing with colorful blooms that sweetly scent the air. There is a wall of lilac bushes that runs behind the beds and Louis decides that when he gets a bit further up the pathway he’ll run on the grass on the far side of those bushes to avoid being seen. He can’t take the chance of a worker looking out one of the upper floor windows of the train station and spotting an Intake running up the driveway, especially since the alert advising workers to keep watch for a “rogue” has already been sent out. Louis is used to running on all sorts of different turfs when playing footie and so the lawns of the New Resident Train Station shouldn’t be that difficult to conquer.

 _Harry is at that station_ , Louis thinks to himself, and it spurs him onward.

He runs along the far lip of the drive for fifty meters or so and then realizes he’s probably gone far enough and that its time to get off the main path. The lilac bushes behind the flowerbeds tower three meters or more in height and Louis knows that if he runs close enough alongside them, the overhanging branches will keep him hidden from view. He slows to a stop and carefully treads across the flowerbed, watching his step as to not crush any blooms. His mind briefly flashes to earlier in the day when he waded through the flowers that grew along the creek side and picked the green zinnias for Harry. Harry looked so pleased to receive them and he remembers the way that Harry set the bouquet on his nightstand and then opened a bottle of champagne, the fizzing liquid overflowing from the mouth of the bottle and spilling onto the floor. Harry had made a joke about making a mess, and then he filled their glasses in celebration of their moment together.

 _“What shall we toast to, Hazza?”_ Louis had asked.

 _“Lets toast to the only thing that matters. Let’s toast to this moment. Let’s toast to us,”_ Harry had replied.

It was a perfect moment.

They’d barely had more than a few sips of the bubbly before they were pulling back the duvet and meeting each other in the center of Harry’s massive bed and then… and then Louis got to have the thing he’s wanted most in the whole of his existence; he got to have Harry.

“God it was incredible,” Louis sighs out loud, thinking about the way it felt when their bodies first connected, the way they read each other’s minds when they made love, the way Harry begged for Louis to stay inside of him after. It was the greatest experience Louis has ever known and it was all so fleeting.

Louis turns his body to the side and slides into the gap between two lilac bushes. He wants to run along the outer side of the bushes that face the lawn on the opposite side of the station so that he’ll be as far out of sight as possible. He’s going to have to cross over and enter the station eventually, but he’ll look far less conspicuous if he just happens to be walking up the drop-off than if he’s spotted racing up the main driveway.

The bushes are huge and packed closely together and so even though Louis is trying to be careful, the flowering trees are so thick and abundant that he’s unable to make it through all of the way unscathed. He winces as he feels the sharp end of a branch drag along his already swollen and sore cheek.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” he mutters, as if his body isn’t already imprinted enough with the signs of this difficult journey. He puts his hands up then to shield his face and presses forward and as he moves through the thick bramble he feels the contrasting sensations of buttery soft flower petals and sharp and rough twigs raking across his skin. At least the lilacs smell amazing.

When he’s made it all the way through to the other side, he looks at the tops of his hands to find them covered in small scratches, some of which bleed. He wipes them on the sides of his tupa skirt and then continues onward; running across the soft grass beneath the overhang towards the train station, dripping bunches of lilac flowers occasionally brushing over the top of his head and tangling in his hair.

His mind returns to Harry and the afternoon they shared and he once again thinks of that bouquet of flowers. This time, Louis considers how at the end of their time together he removed the blue silk ribbon that Marta had carefully tied around the flower stems and the way he then wrapped that ribbon around Harry’s wrist, using it to secure the little sticky note that he had secretly prepared as a memento for Harry.

 _“What did you put on my wrist, Louis?”_ Harry had asked and Louis had answered that it was something for him to keep, the implication of _after I’m gone,_ left unspoken.

“ _You’ll show me tonight on the train, Louis_.”

“I’d love that, darling,” Louis breathily says aloud, mimicking the words he’d spoken to his lover earlier in the evening. He feels another one of those unexpected rushes of grief flowing through him at the thought of Harry sitting on that train bound to the next realm and reading the sticky note by himself, longing for Louis, and all the while Louis will be busy being reborn back into a life on Earth. It just doesn’t seem right that this is how their story ends.

“You got my verdict wrong!” he screams defiantly into the night air, the sound of his voice bouncing off the lilac bushes and seeming to ring through the tiny purple flowers that hang in clusters from their branches. He quickly slaps his hand over his mouth. The sole reason he’s running off the driveway is because he needs to be inconspicuous for Pete’s sake. Yelling loudly and calling attention to himself certainly won’t help him achieve that goal. How could he make such a careless mistake?

He continues onwards, reassuring himself that nobody heard his little outburst. He’s still quite far from the station and the drop-off, surely there was no within earshot to hear his ranting. It’s just that he’s been traveling for so long and he’s so frustrated with all of the mishaps that he’s had along the way. His legs positively ache and he wonders if he’s going to carry that pain with him when he’s reborn.

No.

The only thing Louis Tomlinson is carrying with him into his next life is whatever piece of Harry Styles he can hold onto when he exits this realm. The pain is inconsequential. The only thing that matters is Harry.

Louis keeps running.

He continues on for another hundred meters or so, passing the halfway point, the bits of the train station that he can see through the branches looking even more impressive the closer Louis gets. When he reaches the end of the tree line, he’ll be able to cut across the lawn and back onto the main drive without having to squeeze through any more lilac bushes to do so. It will be a relief to finally get to the station and he hopes against all hope that Harry will have not yet disembarked his tram; although the reality is that he’s more than likely already inside and preparing to board his train. Louis feels a rush of gratitude, because if Beatrice and her friends hadn’t rescued him on the side of the road and driven him the last stretch to the station’s main gates, he never would have made it on time.

He keeps running.

He doesn’t even see the branch that juts out from the overhang until it’s too late, its spindly arm snagging on the sleeve of his tupa and the impact jerking him backwards as the jagged end of the stem rips into the material of his garment and cuts into the skin on his bicep.

“Bloody hell,” Louis grunts loudly, and he starts to lose his balance from being stopped so abruptly. He shoots his arms out to steady himself but it’s too little, too late, and he falls squarely on his arse, the impact of his landing causing shooting pain to radiate through his injured hip and leg. He sits there motionless for a moment, the wind knocked out of him more so out of surprise than the actual fall, and he inhales deeply, trying to catch his breath. The grass is unusually damp and he supposes it’s due to the same evening dew that caused him to slip down the hillside. He can feel the moisture seeping through his garment and the last thing he needs is have to run in a wet tupa and pants, so he quickly sits upright and pushes himself off the ground. “How many times can one man fall in a day?” he wonders aloud, but he doesn’t have time to ponder his own question, he has to keep moving. He shakes out his wrists and gently runs his hand over his sore hip, the simple touch causing his thigh to throb in pain. He runs his fingers through his fringe, pushing it out of his eyes and drawing in another deep breath, this one immediately turning into a heavy yawn that he feels throughout his entire body. The yawn strangely disorients him and stands confused for a moment as to what he’s supposed to do next and then it him: he has to move.

He begins to run, although his footing is not as sure as it had been before his latest fall. Louis knows that running on slick grass is different than crossing dry pavement, but as he forges ahead he realizes that he’s experiencing an unusual amount of difficulty gaining speed. His feet are heavy like they are encased within cement blocks and his legs feel leaden and are weighing him down as the pull of exhaustion once again rolls in.

It’s strange really, because Louis was able to enjoy a bit of a respite on the tram and he’s only traveled about one hundred fifty meters on this path, but he’s incredibly slowed in his movements and he’s also starting to get winded. To reach this point, Louis power-walked fourteen blocks and ran approximately four kilometers, which, given his normal daily exercise routine, isn’t that much. The energy he’s expended on this entire journey isn’t a fraction of what he would normally exert during the course of a footie match, much less one of the many 10 K runs he participated in on Earth, but he’s nonetheless physically drained. He feels like he’s just endured an entire day of intense tournament play and then was forced to run a marathon on top of it all. He’s just so bloody exhausted and once again he is reminded of Ed’s words warning him that the more energy he uses, the faster the effects of that vile coffee will wear off.

He holds his cuff up to his nose, inhaling a deep sniff of the stain on his sleeve, his nostrils filling with the pungent odor of Resident coffee. The smell is awful and it causes Louis to recoil and he almost stumbles again, but he manages to stay upright.

Despite this small victory, the stench of the coffee doesn’t have the desired effect Louis had hoped for and the foul smell fails to jolt him into alertness like it has the previous times he’s pulled this little trick. He raises his hand in front of his face as he runs; stretching his fingers and contemplating if he should have another go at slapping himself back into wakefulness, but just the thought causes his cheek to tingle.

Louis may have expended more physical energy when he was on Earth, and he may have tested his endurance far more intensely when he was living than he has in the Afterlife, but he’s never experienced anything so cruel or taxing on his body as this trek from the Review Center to the train station has been. He can’t imagine the kind of shape he would be in if Beatrice and the others hadn’t picked him up. They were all so kind to help him: Beatrice, Mallory, and that nice man with the dark hair. What was that bloke’s name, again? Ronald… Ralphie? No! Reghie. Yes. The man’s name was Reghie.

He unconsciously slows to a jog, yawning loudly and then rubbing his hand over his tired eyes, willing himself to stay awake even though he feels like he’s trying to run through a wading pool of water. He’s so worn out that his mind is starting to get a bit muddled, his thoughts bouncing back and forth in his brain the way they tend to do right before he falls asleep and wouldn’t sleep be amazing right now? The grass looks so thick and soft and he could just wander away from these lovely lilac bushes and drop onto that welcoming green field and curl into a little ball. The fog is starting to get thick around him again and Louis wonders if he might actually _feel_ the blanket of mist if he lies down upon it. Maybe it will be just like it was this afternoon; lying on that fluffy cloud bed that Harry had made in front of the windows. After they’d made love, Harry had collapsed on his chest and they both closed their eyes, desperate for sleep. Louis blinks heavily and considers just how wonderful it would be to close his eyes right now and fall asleep spooned around Harry. Harry is so beautiful and he looks so pretty when he’s sleeping. He makes the softest little snuffling sounds as he breaths. Wouldn’t it be nice to hear that sound right now? Wouldn’t it be lovely to just let go and give in and finally greet his well-deserved slumber? He could really use the rest, just for a minute or –

“Oh my god!” Louis exclaims, his eyes popping wide open. “Snap out of it!”

This time when he yells, he doesn’t even worry that someone might hear him because he just came so very frighteningly close to giving up and he didn’t even realize it was happening. If Louis wanders into the grass to rest for even a minute he will lose all control and that would mean the end of everything.

He doesn’t skip a beat, deciding to go for his left cheek because he’s not sure how much more abuse the right side of his face can take. He raises his left hand, draws it away from his body, and then smacks himself hard, his palm and fingers slamming into the soft flesh of his cheek with such a savage force that he’s momentarily stunned.

“That really fucking hurt!” he exclaims, the aftershocks of the blow radiating through both his hand and cheek and then coursing throughout his entire body. The slap was brutal, but Louis is grateful for the hurt because the pain of the contact has seemed to instigate something within him that has given him a burst of energy.

He picks up his pace, his slow jog immediately transformed into a rapid sprint.

“Her name is Meghie, not _Mallory_ ,” he says out loud, his own voice spurring him on as he decries his earlier confusion. “And who the fuck is Reghie? His name is Randall and I remember his name because I am awake and alert and I will see Harry again.”

He continues onward, talking to himself as he runs, his voice breathy as he gives himself words of encouragement, all in an attempt to stay alert and focused on his goal.

“You’re doing amazing, Tommo! You should be so proud. Look how close you are to the end of the tree line. You’re going to taste those raspberry lips in no time! You can do this!”

Under normal circumstances, this one-sided banter would seem absolutely ridiculous to Louis. But these aren’t normal circumstances and he’s come too far to give in to the sleep that is calling to him like some dangerous siren of the sea. He will not surrender, not when he’s this close to the finish line.

“Finish line,” he says, the words strangely having some unknown deeper meaning that he can’t quite place his finger on.

 _Finish line_.

Louis is approximately twenty meters from the end of the wall of lilac bushes, which means he’s approaching the head of the driveway and he’ll soon be able to cross onto the semicircular drop-off in front of the station’s main gate. But his thoughts about reaching that gate are interrupted when he hears a loud clicking noise. The sound is sharp and startling and it’s coming from the lawn to Louis’ right. He slows his pace just a bit and looks about, trying to discern what made the sound, because if that noise came from a Resident who is on his trail then he needs to spot them before they spot him. The fog is significantly lighter in this area than it was back where Louis smacked himself alert and he can see the space all around him fairly clearly as he turns his head slowly to survey his surroundings. The clicking noise sounds again and it’s definitely coming from the lawn. Louis lowers his head in the direction of the noise and then he sees them: dozens of sprinkler heads emerging from the grass and rising nearly a half a foot above the ground. Everything goes eerily silent for a moment, followed by another loud click.

“Oh fuck!” Louis says and then he takes off running as fast as his feet will carry him, but not fast enough to outrun the sprinklers that are now spraying water over the entire lawn, including the lilac bushes that he’s running beneath, with more sprinklers going off over the flowerbeds on the other side. The spray hits his face and showers heavy droplets onto his shoulders and chest, but the overhang does offer him some protection, and it’s the lower half of his body that’s really getting wet, the water directed at the ground saturating his shoes and soaking through his tupa skirt. Then, just as fast as they emerged from the earth, the sprinklers shut off with another loud click and then retract back into the ground.

Louis reaches the end of the lilac wall a soggy mess. His shoes are positively squishing with water, which only causes them to rub harder against his feet and further exacerbate the pain of his blisters. Certain parts of his tupa are bone dry, while other parts are positively saturated. He runs his hand over his chest and finds that for the most part, the front of his garment has only been sprinkled with water and those spots will no doubt dry quickly enough. The back of his garment is wetter than the front and as such, the tupa clings to his body over his shoulders and his bum, while the center of his back is strangely dry. He’s not sure what he can do about his wet shoulders and arse, save for praying that any Resident he happens to see doesn’t notice his predicament. But it’s his tupa skirt that’s really wet, in particular the bottom portion of the skirt that extends from his knees to his feet. He pulls up his skirt then, bunching it in his hands to lift it up to his waist and as he does so, his mind flashes on an image of Harry on their first night together, raising his own tupa skirt to reveal his tattoos to Louis.

 _He shared every part of himself with me,_ Louis thinks with wonder at the way Harry had no inhibitions when it came giving his body to Louis, even on their first night together _._

“He’s the reason for everything and I’m going to reach him,” Louis says aloud to himself, fully determined to forge ahead and deciding not to let this little setback drag him down in the process. He pulls the fabric of his skirt through his hands and begins to wring out the material, water dripping from the garment and splattering onto the ground below. When he’s sure he’s squeezed all that he can from the soft fabric, he drops the skirt, the bottom portion now a wrinkled mess but not nearly as soggy and heavy as it was before his efforts. He realizes that he needs to make himself presentable, so for the second time this evening he removes his belt and smoothes his hands over the front of his tupa. He then reaches up and places his fingertips on his shoulders, pinching the wet material and pulling it away from his body. He does the same with the fabric that is clinging to his bum and although the material immediately settles back against his skin, he’s sure that he’s at least a bit more presentable. He wraps the belt back around his waist and secures it in place. There’s nothing he can do about his shoes; he’s afraid if he even tries to take them off to press out the excess water, his blistered feet will protest too much and he won’t be able to get them back on again. Instead, he combs his fingers through his hair, swooping his fringe off to the side and then smoothing down the back. He’s quite certain that he’s less than perfectly put-together, but he’s nonetheless determined to make his appearance do.

“It is what it is,” he mumbles, tapping the tattoo that runs below his collarbones. He tries not to think of the way that Harry sometimes would trace his index finger along that tattoo and how good that slight touch felt, instead focusing on what he plans on doing next. “This is it.”

Louis walks around the end of the row of lilac bushes and stands facing in the direction of the train station, the structure overwhelming in both sheer size and opulence. It looks like some sort of cathedral from ancient Byzantium and it’s a striking counter to the flourishing Roman-style architecture of the arch he passed through when he first entered the grounds.

The New Resident Train Station sits on a small hill and is the built from the purest white marble Louis has ever seen, a series of ten marble steps with golden inlays leading up to its main entrance. The building is embellished with ornate gold accents that trim and adorn its architectural features and the edifice is a unique combination of elements and shapes that somehow all flow seamlessly together to create a cohesive structure. It looks positively decadent and Louis supposes that the grandeur is fitting considering that this is a train station that leads to what can arguably be described as paradise.

_Anywhere that Harry goes is paradise._

_“You’re my home, Louis.”_

The main front of the building is a compartmented square shape; its central feature a colorful stained glass dome that is supported by a pendentive drum, rising at least one hundred meters into the sky from the marble covered ground below. The square façade measures approximately eighty meters from end to end and top to bottom, and is abutted on either end by semicircular niches, with massive columns running from the ground to the top of these niches on either side and topped with their own domed roofs that mimic the colorful roof that is the building’s focal point. Beyond the columns, the walls on either end of the station jut back at sharp angles and Louis correctly suspects that the building is actually octagonal in shape. There is a large, arched entranceway at the center of the façade; a series of smaller arches mirroring it on either side. Running across the frieze along the top of the archway is a glittering mosaic installation of blue, gold, and green tiles that sparkle beneath the lights that shine upon the building, the words “New Resident Train Station,” spelled out across its surface. Below the mosaic and hanging over the top of the archway is a gold banner that bears the message, “Welcome New Residents!” and Louis feels a sick twisting in his gut when he reads it because he is _not_ a New Resident and he knows passing through that entrance is going to hurt.

He doesn’t have time to contemplate it any longer though, he has to leave this safe spot by the lilac bushes and make his way into that building.

Louis sets off.

He strides purposefully off the grass and walks confidently across the main drive like he is exactly where he belongs. The fog is getting thicker; it’s particularly heavy low to the ground, with a thinner mist hovering above, but Louis heeds it no mind as he steps onto the curved drop-off in front of the station. He looks to his left and peers into the carpark, wanting to double check if all of the passengers of the New Resident trams have disembarked the vehicles. If Harry is still in his tram, then Louis won’t have to venture into the train station to see him and he won’t get further hurt; not that any of that really matters to him at this point. Seeing Harry is the only thing that matters and as Louis squints his eyes trying to see through the fog that is particularly dense by the row of parked vehicles, he thinks to himself that they could strap him to an electric chair for all he cares, as long as he can taste Harry’s lips one more time before they flip the switch. He’s not even surprised when he finally discerns that the trams are empty. He’s just starting to walk up the long, curved drop-off at the front of the station when it happens, and once it begins, it all starts to unfold so very fast.

“Are you Louis Tomlinson?” calls a friendly female voice. Louis spins quickly on his heels, instinctively seeking out the person who shouted his name, when it suddenly hits him that nobody in this place besides Harry should even _know_ his name and this cannot be good.

A woman is striding toward him from the carpark. She’s dressed in one of the uniforms the tram operators wear and she looks to be in her early fifties, with black hair striped with bits of grey piled on the top of her head in a bun. Her face is quite sweet and Louis thinks that under normal circumstances he would be polite and actually stop and speak to her. But these are not normal circumstances. The woman holds a small tablet computer in he hand and he knows without a doubt that she’s comparing him to his picture that accompanied the Rogue Intake Alert, her eyes flicking back and forth between her tablet screen and then back to Louis’ own, before finally settling on him.

Louis turns on his heels and runs.

“I just want to help you!” she calls out to him. “Don’t go toward the station it’s not safe!” But Louis pays her no mind, remembering what Beatrice told him earlier that he would not be chased.

“ _Eventually, you’ll be surrounded or cornered and you won’t have anywhere else to run.”_

He pushes the thought of being trapped like some kind of rabid animal aside and races up the drive, nearly running into a small group of Residents that are gathered at the base of the steps, adrenaline mercifully coursing through his veins and propelling him forward.

“I think that’s _the Rogue_ ,” he’s certain he hears one of them say and he’d probably laugh if this wasn’t so serious because he literally has ‘The Rogue’ tattooed at the base of his shins and how simultaneously fitting and ironic did that tattoo turn out to be?

Louis ignores the comment and bounds toward the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reaches the top and steps onto a large landing that expands the length of the building and stretches at least seven or eight meters from its entrance. He’s racing across its marble surface, making his way to the center archway, which is open and leads directly inside the station, when he hears a faraway voice call out to him: “You there! No Intakes allowed beyond the entry gate; you’re going to get hurt!”

 _This is it_ , Louis thinks to himself, certain that the archway he’s approaching contains the first energy field that Ed warned him about. He draws in a deep breath and steels himself and runs straight through the arch as fast as his feet will carry him. The archway is fairly long, perhaps five meters in depth, and Louis actually starts to think he’s going to make it through to the other side, unscathed. But then he reaches the passage’s end and his body suddenly seizes as electric current blasts through him and brings him to his knees. It’s a shock like nothing Louis has ever experienced, the jolt so powerful that he is rendered immobile, his whole body twitching with the force of the current, the circuit of electricity traveling through him from the top of his hair to the tips of every finger and every toe, his appendages burning like they are shooting sparks of fire.

But in little more than an instant, it’s over and Louis is left gasping for air, trying to come to his senses when everything around him seems to be melting away. His skin burns, particularly in the areas where his wet tupa clings to his body and he wouldn’t be surprised if the garment was pulled away from his skin that actual steam would escape. His ears ring with a soft humming noise and the exhaustion that he’s been trying to fight comes rushing back with a vengeance and he knows that if he stays in this spot a moment longer he’s going to give in to it and he cannot let that happen. He pushes himself up off the floor, his palms stinging against the cold marble and then he stands upright on shaking legs and scorching feet. Mercifully, the searing pain from the shock that thrums through him begins to dissipate, the utter fatigue he feels in every inch of his body having come to the forefront in its stead.

The fog has gotten so much thicker as he enters the station and how can that even be possible? How can there be fog indoors? Louis looks skyward as he walks, trying to discern its source, but the thing he seeks to find the origin of is also the thing that is obstructing his view.

From what he can tell, the interior of the building is a giant, open structure, the walls covered in colorful mosaics depicting scenes from another world unlike anything Louis has ever seen before and he suspects that these little vignettes represent life in the next realm. The dome is illuminated and it appears to be very beautiful, but the fog is floating like thin cirrus clouds beneath it and Louis can’t really make out the design of its colorful stained glass surface, nor does he have the time to study it beyond a cursory glance.

He presses forward, certain that now that he’s been spotted, the Residents _inside_ this station will be come looking for him. He can’t worry any longer about being inconspicuous; he has to run.

There doesn’t seem to be a lot of activity in this portion of the station and Louis is grateful because the less Residents walking about, the better off he’ll be. He keeps his head down as he navigates the grand gallery space, his hands clenched into fists so tight he can feel his dull fingernails cutting into his skin and he’s certain that the sting caused by this action and the almost unbearable pain of his sore legs and blistered feet pounding on the hard marble flooring, are the only things that are keeping him awake. He’s so tired he feels he might drop to the floor at any second and sleeping on the floor wouldn’t really be that bad, would it? The marble would probably feel so cool against his burning skin and it looks so clean and –

“No!” he says aloud, his voice sharp and echoing in the massive chamber and it comes almost as an automatic response at this point because he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until he feels his hand heavily strike his battered right cheek. God, it hurts like hell, but damn if the blow doesn’t wake him up a bit. The fog is suddenly thinner and he can make out a large staircase about five meters ahead that must lead to the train platform and he races it towards it, just as he hears someone from far across the gallery call out to him.

“Louis Tomlinson! Stop and let me help you!”

But Louis does not stop, he doesn’t even look in the direction of the voice, he just runs faster, the fear of being caught when he’s this close to Harry driving him onward. He approaches the top of the landing and draws in a sharp, surprised breath at what he sees, because there are at least fifty steps stretching out below him, broken up by a landing at the halfway point. He cannot believe that after the hundreds of stairs he descended earlier, he’s once again faced with a seemingly endless staircase, but he doesn’t waste any time, he immediately begins his descent, hoping that he can reach the bottom before someone else spots him.

He takes the steps as fast as he can but his shoes are wet and they slip against his skin with every step down he makes. The blister on the back of his heel has got to be a giant open sore at this point, the back of his shoe rubbing mercilessly against his raw skin. He reaches the landing and is momentarily stunned by a large mosaic mural that adorns the wall on the overhang above him.

The mosaic is so huge and it depicts scenes of people; some dressed in tupas, others wearing Residents clothing, and all of them engaged in activities that somehow seem to be about… _betterment_. Every person in the mosaic is reading, teaching, or somehow participating in an action of self-improvement and it’s striking really. But what’s even more striking is how _tranquil_ the images are; everyone looks so peaceful and happy and Louis can’t help but feel a flood of warmth for Harry that he’ll soon be in that wonderful place.

In one scene, two men sit side by side on the greenest grass, huddled together and reading from the same book. Louis imagines what it would be like to sit on the grass in the next realm with Harry. Harry was a Shakespeare scholar and he promised to recite endless love sonnets to Louis and now that’s never going to happen. He feels his eyes well with tears and he looks away from the colorful mosaic tiles, his emotions overtaking him as he moves across the landing and begins to descend the second set of stairs. He can smell grease and hear the low churning of an engine and he knows that at the bottom of the staircase are the platform and the train that will take Harry to the next realm. Louis is so close that he rushes down the last few steps, his heart racing because he just _knows_ that Harry is nearby. It’s almost like he can _feel_ his presence and that sense gives Louis hope.

Louis’ reaches the very bottom step and hops off of it, unknowingly stepping straight into a second energy field that is installed at the main landing. This second shock is even more punishing than the first; it causes Louis’ body to go rigid, his back arched and his chest pitched forward. His head is thrown back to follow the curve of his spine and his arms just hang limply at his sides, his fingers splayed as the jolt of current runs through him, the circuit beginning at his toes and rising up his battered calves and thighs, shooting hot sparks through his groin and chest and then traveling down his arms and through every finger before climbing up his neck and blasting out his head, his hair positively standing on end. Then, the current just… _stops_. It’s as if a switch has been shut off but Louis’ body at first doesn’t get the message and he remains frozen, his trunk curved backwards so far it almost forms a C-shape, but then suddenly, Louis jerks forward, collapsing onto the floor in a heap.

He doesn’t feel the fall, or the hard landing. He doesn’t feel anything at all. He doesn’t know where he is or _who_ he is, even. The only thing that Louis knows is that he’s on the coolest, most comfortable surface he’s ever felt and the pain that was just seconds ago threatening to split him into a million particles has blissfully disappeared and now the only thing he feels is the gentle pull of welcoming, beautiful sleep. His eyes are so heavy and they begin to flutter shut. He can’t imagine why he was ever awake in the first place, not when he could be sleeping instead. There is a gentle pull on his elbow and Louis instinctively tugs it away. He’s not about to be bothered when he’s so content and so ready go under.

“Louis Tomlinson,” comes a male voice. “I want to help you.” The man grabs onto Louis’ arm again and this time he manages to haul Louis upright so that Louis is propped on his knees. Louis’ eyes open slowly and he squints at the man, the fog so thick he can barely see. The man has dark hair and is dressed in nice suit and Louis couldn’t be more annoyed that this stranger is bothering him. “I promise you, Mr. Tomlinson,” the man continues, “I’m going to get you to a safe place. But I can’t let you transition here on the floor. There are far too many people about. We have a very nice break room for station employees and it has the most comfortable sofa, we’ll take the elevator and we’ll be there straight away.”

Louis eyes pop open wide and although he’s completely disoriented and dizzy, he suddenly remembers who he is and exactly what he was doing before he fell, and what he was doing was trying to reach his soul mate. He quickly jumps to his feet, a burst of adrenaline rushing through him at the terror of how close he once again was to giving in. His heart is positively pounding and despite his damp clothing that clings to his body, he starts to sweat. The man smiles warmly at him and again takes his elbow, his voice kind when he says, “Very good, sir. I’m so happy you were able to stand. Now if you’ll just come with me.”

Louis jerks his arm away harshly.

“S-sorry, mmmate,” he says, his words thick and slurred and Louis has to force them out, the ability to properly speak having seemingly been lost to him. “M’not g-going anywhr withhh you.”

Other than to smile sympathetically, the man doesn’t respond. He just pulls out his tablet and begins tapping on the screen and Louis knows he’s sending out another alert, advising every Resident on the platform that the Rogue is approaching.

Louis’ movements are slow at first as he walks away from his would-be captor, and the pain that had disappeared when he was going under comes back in full force, his body positively burning from the inside out and his bones and muscles heavy and aching. But Louis tries not the think of the ways his body is starting to betray him. He just forces himself to move, stumbling and swaying on his feet as if he is drunk.

The train platform is just as beautiful as the rest of the building, its floor comprised of dark ebony wood panels polished to a mirrored shine. The walls feature the same sorts of tile mosaics that were upstairs in the main gallery and on the overhang, it’s gabled ceiling covered in gold leaf. But Louis barely notices any of these details, instead focusing on the massive, U-shaped track that is to the left of the platform. It makes sense that the track is configured in such a manner, this station is no doubt the only destination between here and the next realm and he imagines that the trains that traverse it make the same sort of turn around when they reach the station in that far off, heavenly land.

Further up the track and approximately at the halfway point of the platform, stands the train itself, its engine humming as New Residents dressed in tupas and longstanding Residents in traditional clothing gather about. But there is something different about the tupas the New Residents are wearing and as a woman in the garment walks by Louis, he notices that the material of her tupa is far superior to the quite luxurious material of the one he is wearing. The New Resident tupas are the brightest white and they have an almost opalescent sheen to them that shimmers and casts glints of colors across the silken material in time as the fabric moves. Louis can only imagine how gorgeous Harry looks in one of those garments and he doesn’t even want to imagine how terrible he himself must look in his own, soiled and torn Resident tupa. He’s going to look an absolute mess when he sees Harry, but he knows Harry won’t care. Harry won’t pay any mind to what Louis looks like at all; he’ll just be as thrilled to see Louis, as Louis will be to see him. Louis knows that Harry is somewhere in this crowd and he picks up his pace, his eyes scanning the different faces as he searches for him. The fog is ever present: a heavy white mist hanging thick in the air and obstructing his view, but Louis is certain that Harry is near and if he has to blindly feel his way to him, then so be it.

There are people everywhere on the platform and Louis dashes in and out of them, his pace once again slowing due both to all of the bodies milling about and his own exhaustion. The Residents on the platform all appear to be workers who are assisting the New Residents and Louis is grateful that most of them seem to be preoccupied with their work and aren’t blatantly looking for him. He finally approaches the rear of the train, and he literally gasps at its size and grandeur.

The train that transports New Residents to the next realm is a bullet train: its long body smooth and rounded and comprised of a polished gold metal material that glimmers beneath the station’s lights. The train is massive, it’s at least four times the size of the trains on earth and Louis notes that it’s a double-decker, both the upper and lower levels boasting huge windows that undoubtedly provide its passengers spectacular views as they travel to the next realm. He can’t even begin to imagine what the interior of that shining behemoth must be like; it’s no doubt as striking and posh as its magnificent exterior.  

As Louis pushes forward through the fog and the crowd, he wonders how long it will take for the train to reach the next realm. He hopes Harry can put aside his heartache and enjoy even a little bit of the experience of moving forward, but giving his own aching heart, he doubts that will be possible and it only makes him feel more sad. If he has enough time when he sees him, he’s going to tell Harry to do just that: to try find a little bit of joy in this journey, despite his grief over losing Louis. He’s going to tell Harry to try to take in his surroundings and appreciate the moment for what it is: absolute proof that Harry lived an exemplary life. He doesn’t want Harry to dwell on the loss he is suffering. He wants Harry to be comfortable when he travels. He imagines if the trip to the next realm takes longer than a day, then the train has to be equipped with sleeping cars. He wants Harry to be able to sleep comfortably because sleep is so beneficial. The beds are probably so wonderful in the sleeping cars and the sheets no doubt feel cool and welcoming against the skin. It would be so nice to go to sleep in a cozy bed beside Harry. Just to be able to lay his head down on a soft pillow beside the man he loves and pull the duvet up to their chins –

Not for the first time tonight, Louis’ eyes snap open wide.

“F-kn hll,” he mumbles, his brain so disoriented that he’s unable to even form the words to properly curse. He can’t very well slap himself without drawing attention in the crowd, so he reaches down and pinches his injured thigh instead, sliding his hand over his tupa skirt and then gripping the area of his wounded and broken flesh between his thumb and index finger and squeezing as tight as he can, the material of his skirt bunching in his hand. The pain is instantaneous, shooting down his leg like a bullet and he almost cries out, but he somehow manages to restrain himself, only letting out a low groan. He feels moisture seeping through the fabric of his garment and he lets go, looking down and spotting the bright red blood that is spreading across the material and leaving a circular stain in its wake. That’s what he gets for pinching an open wound, but he does feel a little more alert, although not by much. He’s still so desperate for sleep that he can barely function.

But then he sees him. The fog may be dense and Louis’ brain may be a little muddled, but he sees his soul mate – he sees Harry – and Louis’ heart flips and butterflies bounce about in his stomach because he’s so happy and filled with relief that he could just cry.

Harry is stood about ten meters away and he’s standing facing the train, queued up with five or six New Residents, waiting to board. If Louis had gotten here even a minute later he probably would have missed him, but that didn’t happen and he’s never felt so lucky or grateful in the whole of his existence. The fog is a little lighter around Harry and as Louis moves closer towards him, he can see that Harry looks positively broken; his shoulders are slumped and his head hangs down and he takes little shuffling steps as his position in the queue for entry onto the train advances. He’s so beautiful and the luminescence of the tupa only accentuates Harry’s creamy skin, his shiny curls falling over his shoulders in ringlets that Louis aches to touch. Louis just wants to hold him again, and he chokes back a sob because this is it; this is the moment he’s been fighting for and he can’t believe it’s finally here.

Louis is now about five meters away from the entrance to the train car and he needs to get Harry’s attention because there is only one person ahead of Harry now and Louis can’t let him get on that train, not until he’s kissed him one more time. He opens his mouth to call out to him but his voice is completely wrecked and he only manages a low, squeaking sound. He feels a heavy sinking in his chest because, _no_ , this cannot be happening, not when he’s come so close. He tries again.

“Herr,” he ekes out, his words garbled, but at least he has a bit more control, although the sound he makes is so low its barely audible. A porter stands at the entrance to the train and he holds in his hand an iPad tablet and Louis feels a jolt of panic because dear God, what if Louis’ picture is displayed on that man’s computer screen? The porter turns his attention to Harry and asks him a question and as Harry answers, the man scrolls his finger over his screen and then he smiles broadly and nods his head, standing aside and ushering Harry on board.

 _No_.

Harry takes a step up onto the train’s lower platform and disappears from Louis’ view and Louis’ heart clenches fiercely in his chest. How can this be the end? Louis has come all this way and is this close to Harry and yet he doesn’t even get to speak with him, much less kiss his lips?

 _No_.

Louis draws in a deep breath and tries again. He might be barely hanging on to consciousness by the thinnest of threads, but he’s come too far and is too close to give in without trying one more time. He opens his mouth and lets out a loud cry.

“Harry!” he screams and the porter and the other New Residents in the queue all snap their attention to Louis. He imagines he must look positively deranged but he doesn’t care. His movements are stiff and awkward as he heads towards the front of the car, and even though his exhausted body is almost beyond his control, he will force his way onto that train if he has to, just so that he can say one last goodbye to the man he loves.

He hears a soft thumping noise coming from the window directly beside him and he turns his head and there’s Harry on the other side of the glass, beating the window with the sides of his fist and Louis is so relieved.

“Louis! Louis!” Harry calls out, the sound of his voice muffled by the glass that separates them.

“Harry!” Louis answers, his voice finally registering strong and clear, just the sight of Harry giving him a burst of energy and he quickly approaches the train, standing directly in front of Harry’s window and holding up his hands. The track is sunken and so Harry is positioned not very far above him and Harry places his hands on the window glass, his palms flat and his fingers spread wide. Tears are streaming down his face and he looks so beautiful and brokenhearted and he keeps repeating Louis’ name as Louis places his own hands against the glass to meet with Harry’s on the other side and despite the glass barrier that separates them, Louis can almost feel Harry’s touch against his palms.

 _I love you_ , Louis thinks, tears now rolling down his own cheeks as he stares into Harry’s eyes, and through the thick glass of the window, he hears Harry answer his thoughts, “Louis, I love you, too! I love you so much, Louis!”

“You can’t be here, sir!” Louis hears a male voice call out to him and he turns his head to see the porter walking towards him, iPad clutched in his hand and facing outwards, Louis’ own image displayed on its screen. “Let me call someone to help you and take you someplace comfortable.”

Louis pulls his hands away from the window, surprised by the porter’s intrusion into his and Harry’s moment, even though he knows fully well that every Resident in this station is looking for him.

He looks up at Harry, trying to convey how desperately sorry he is for leaving him, how angry he is with himself for failing so miserably in his life that he’s being sent back to Earth to start all over again.

Harry starts shaking his head in protest, even though Louis never voiced his thoughts out loud. He once again begins to pound on the window, shouting out Louis’ name over and over, but it sounds so muted and Louis is not sure if it’s due to the thick glass or the fact that Louis’ brain is so fuzzy that he’s not registering what he’s hearing.

The porter enters Louis’ space, standing directly in front of him, his voice calm as he says, “I have to check the New Residents onto the train, but I’ve sent out a call and there will be someone here shortly to help you, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis realizes in this moment that even though he probably should just wait for whoever shows up so that they can take him someplace comfortable and he can lie down and complete his transformation peacefully, he doesn’t want to give up. He vowed earlier that he would fight his fate until the very end and he intends on doing just that. He’s not just going to lie down and accept his verdict because despite how big his Justices’ brains are, they are wrong about him and he knows it. If he enters his next life traumatized by the way he left this one, then so shall it be. As long as he takes a little piece of Harry with him when he goes, it will be more than worth the struggle.

“Love you,” Louis whispers, as he stares into Harry’s big green eyes. They’re so glassy and bright, despite the tears that are streaming down his face.

 _“Don’t go,”_ he hears Harry clearly say, even though the words are never spoken out loud. The porter places his hand on Louis’ elbow and Louis clutches his own hand to his heart as he continues to stare at his soul mate. “I’m s-sorry,” he stutters and Harry just cries harder, banging on the glass and pleading for Louis to stay. “Harry,” he says, wanting his name to be the last words Harry hears from Louis’ lips.

“Let’s get you some help,” the porter starts, but Louis doesn’t let him finish, he takes one last look at Harry and then he takes off. He’s not even sure where he’s going as he dodges in and out and treks further down the platform, the massive train stretching seemingly endlessly ahead on the tracks. He can hear Harry shouting for him in the background and he must have run back to train’s entrance because he’s demanding to be let off the car, his anguished cries ripping through Louis’ entire being and causing him physical hurt as he moves further away. But then Harry’s voice disappears, seemingly evaporating into the mist that is so thick around Louis that he can barely see where he is going.

Louis doesn’t want to let the train out of his sight, because that’s where Harry is and he wants to be as close to him as possible before he leaves this realm. He hears a female call out his name from somewhere off to his right and the sound of her voice is still ringing in his ears when he hears another person make the same pronouncement from behind.

“Louis Tomlinson! Let me help you.”

Louis feels like he’s dragging his feet through thick sand and that his body is moving through Jell-O, but he keeps trudging forward, ignoring the increasing number of people who are shouting out to him and politely asking him to stop so that they might help him with his transition. Finally, he reaches the front of the train, its enormous conductor car tapered downwards in a distinct, bullet shape. The wide track in front of the head car is open and it passes through a massive archway that leads out of the station and into the open landscape.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” comes another friendly male voice.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” repeats a female.

“We just want to help you,” comes a third.

“Please, make it easier on yourself,” states a fourth.

“ _Eventually, you’ll be surrounded or cornered and you won’t have anywhere else to run.”_

Louis is cornered.

Directly in front of him and to his right are the angled walls that contain the end of the platform, while to his left are the tracks, the drop off from the top of the platform to the graveled-covered ground below at least three meters in depth. He turns on his heels, thinking that maybe he can run back in the direction he came, but there are at least two dozen Residents carefully walking towards him, their voices calm as they ask him to let them help him and assure him they only want to make him comfortable.

The Residents move cautiously, as if Louis is some kind of pent-up Bengal tiger who may strike at their throats at any moment. They hold their hands in front of their bodies, palms in the air to show him they mean him no harm. But as they move slowly through the thick fog and encroach ever closer, all that Louis can think of is that he’s in some kind of surreal scene from a bizarro zombie apocalypse movie where the undead are greeting him with smiling faces and not coming to eat his brains, but rather, have intentions far worse: they’re coming to take him away from Harry.

“Sssstaayyy bck,” he slurs, and to their credit, a good number of the Residents actually stop in their tracks. But still, four or five of them move closer to Louis and even though their faces are kind and their offers of helping him to give in to the aching pull of sweet slumber are so appealing, Louis doesn’t want any part of their assistance.

A worker dressed in a Pullman’s uniform carefully approaches Louis, his eyes warm and his voice soft as he says, “Mr. Tomlinson, there is nowhere else for you to go. I’m so sorry that you’re unhappy with your verdict, but it’s time for you to move on to your new life. Please let me help you so that you can be as comfortable and safe as possible when you leave this realm and return to Earth.”

Louis just stares at the man, his vision blurry as the stranger gets closer. But then the real panic sets in, the panic that reminds Louis that he doesn’t want his time in this realm to end with him being hauled away from Harry by a bunch of strangers, regardless of how kind and gentle those strangers may be. Louis feels a burst of adrenaline and he knows what he has to do. The man is about four meters away now and Louis turns quickly towards the tracks and runs to the edge of the platform, taking a deep breath as he looks at the long drop.

“Don’t do it, Mr. Tomlinson,” the Pullman gently instructs. “You’ll only get hurt.”

_Hurt?_

Louis has felt nothing but hurt from the moment his verdict was read. His hurt is physical in all of the injuries he’s sustained on this ridiculous journey. But far more so than that, his hurt is characterized by the anguish he endured at having to tell Harry he failed his Review. His hurt is not only his own broken heart, but Harry’s too, their combined despair at being separated a far greater torment than anything he ever felt on Earth.

Louis thought he knew all sorts of pain when he was alive. He hopped on one foot for nearly three kilometers in a rainstorm, supporting the weight of an ankle that was badly broken in two places, his splintered bone jutting out of his skin. He fell in love with a man who didn’t always treat him kindly and who in the end made a mockery of him when Louis was trying to do the honorable thing and share his truth. He’s felt pain after his death, too. He watched his sister get married and saw his family and friends celebrating her wedding without him, grieving the loss of each and every one of them as if he was mourning a thousand deaths. But all of that pain and heartache was nothing in comparison to the hurt he felt when he learned he would have to leave Harry.

_Hurt?_

Louis Tomlinson knows hurt and jumping three meters into a bed of gravel and heavy wooden railroad ties is nothing in the grand scheme of things.

His head is spinning and his brain is becoming more muddled, but the adrenaline has given him a reprieve of clarity and he doesn’t give it another thought, he just briefly turns his attention to the Pullman, and his garbled, broken voice is as loud as he can muster as he defiantly declares, “M’not afrrid of gettng hurt ‘nd m’not afrrid of love.”

 _I’m not afraid of getting hurt and I’m not afraid of love._ The words make much more sense in Louis’ mind.

Louis turns back towards the tracks then, his chest swelling with pride because despite what the universe may declare, he knows he’s not afraid of anything or anyone and that’s more than enough motivation to propel him forward.

He jumps into the gap.

******

The lights are dim in Room 4604 of the Review Center, but not so dark that the five people assembled inside can’t see each other or even the paperwork that sits in front of them on their respective desks. It’s just dark enough so that the image on the viewing screen is clearly visible and prominently displayed, and right now that image is of Louis Tomlinson, his words slurred with the weight of his exhaustion as he proclaims that he’s “not afraid of getting hurt and he’s not afraid of love.” Louis doesn’t look frightened at all as he boldly jumps into the sizeable gap that bridges the distance between the train platform and the tracks below.

“And you say ‘he’s not ready to move forward’,” Marcus mutters, his voice incredulous as he looks across the room at Ileana, who draws in a heavy gasp of surprise when Louis makes the jump. But Ileana is one of the best and most dedicated delegates in the universe and she’s not just going to acquiesce because Louis displayed this act of courage. She’s been trained to look at Intakes from the perspective a pessimist, and while Marcus seeks out his clients’ greatest attributes when building a defense, it’s Ileana’s job to delve into an Intake’s biggest failures and fears when preparing her counter arguments. It’s not that she’s hard or unkind; it’s just that she strictly adheres to her oath to defend the universe, so much so that in the most rare of cases, she’s unable to see that she’s wrong. And she’s definitely wrong about Louis Tomlinson.

“I don’t understand why we are watching this,” she declares, her voice wavering, but nonetheless sounding out in the quiet of the room. She speaks just as the Louis onscreen lands in the gravel and immediately falls forward, his kneecaps smashing hard against the rough, jagged stones. She winces at the low groan Louis makes as he tries to push himself upright, but she continues her argument. “This is a Disputation, not some sort of morbid melodrama where we watch this poor man needlessly suffer. Mr. Tomlinson’s verdict has already been rendered.”

“We’re watching this because you presented the formal argument that my client’s verdict was fair and just, and during that argument you declared that what ‘proved’ your case was that even after death, Louis has shown himself to be driven by fear. You never should have brought up his afterlife, Ileana. You opened the door.”

Marcus can’t help but feel pleased.

Just as Louis’ own declaration of the love he shared with Harry in the Afterlife enabled Ileana to screen that god-awful clip of Louis rejecting him the previous evening, Ileana’s own insistence on reiterating that point allowed Marcus to introduce the live feed of Louis that they are currently watching. Marcus couldn’t be more proud of Louis than he is right now. He knew Louis would fight for his boy; he’s believed in him from the very start.

Ileana turns towards the Justice Bench, frustration obvious on her face. Chief Justice Wen leans forward and speaks into the microphone. “Mr. Diamond is correct, Ms. Bachchan. You introduced the Intake’s post-death experiences. The Advocate is within his rights to counter your argument.”

Ileana huffs an irritated breath but turns her attention back to the screen and Marcus cannot help but suppress a grin, because he knows he’s getting to her and despite her objections, she’s starting to doubt her conviction that Louis is not ready to advance.

Ileana snaps her head to Marcus, her gaze sharp as her eyes meet his own.

 _“I do not doubt myself,”_ she thinks, but she doesn’t say the words out loud. Marcus hears them just the same. This time, he lets just the hint of a smile settle on his lips and Ileana rolls her eyes and shakes her head, her irritation palpable.

Marcus and the others turn their attention back to the screen.

Louis has somehow managed to push himself upright, but his steps are stilted as he makes his way across the massive train tracks and to the other side. He looks like he’s been dragged to Hell and back; if there was an actual Hell, that is. His tupa is on inside out and despite that, the garment is positively filthy. It’s wrinkled and damp and covered in grass stains, bloodstains, and dirt. Not to mention that it’s torn in several places. His fringe is sticking to his sweaty forehead, while the rest of his hair shoots out in all directions, an after-effect of the two energy fields that Louis somehow managed to pass through without immediately collapsing and falling into a deep asleep. For the most part, Louis’ skin is sallow and sickly-looking, save for the huge reddish-purple mark that takes up the entirety of his right cheek and is accented by a thin gash that cuts along his cheekbone. There is also a light pink handprint that is just barely visible on his left cheek. His eyes are swollen and red from all of the crying he’s done, and he has heavy black circles underneath them that are a clear marker of his unimaginable exhaustion.

The train whistle sounds loudly and Louis manages to move a bit quicker, reaching the opposite side of the tracks and stepping onto the grass on the other side, as the train begins its roll out of the station. He disappears from view as the train forges ahead and passes him, the golden bullet crawling slowly across the tracks for now, but once it’s cleared the station and train yard completely, it will really start to move. When all ten cars that comprise the train finally pass and Louis is revealed on the other side, Marcus is not surprised to see that his client is following it, drunkenly walking along the grass on the far end of the tracks before crossing over the check-rail and stepping onto the gravel, making his way to the center and then forging ahead, mumbling and stumbling and tripping over crossties as he goes.

Marcus stands from his chair and starts to speak as Louis onscreen brokenly chases a train that is moving ever farther away from him.

“We’ve been watching my client since he first stepped foot on the main road that leads out of this city. We all know that Louis drank Resident coffee, which for an Intake, is the equivalent of consuming raw sewage served with a side of bleach. We’ve witnessed him run four kilometers on bloody, blistered feet and we watched him tumble down a hillside and suffer brutal injuries during his fall, and nonetheless he got right back up and continued onward. Time and again, Louis has gotten hurt and fallen down. He’s been tangled in underbrush and sprayed by sprinklers, and he’s continuously fought back against succumbing to the sleep that virtually any other Intake would have given into from the very start. How many times did we watch Louis slap himself back into consciousness? Five? Six?”

“Louis had help!” Ileana interjects. “He never would have made it to the train station at all if it weren’t for the three Residents that drove him there, and we all know their decision to participate in his rogue activities pushed the very boundaries of what is ethical. Furthermore, _someone_ gave Louis Resident coffee! You brought that topic up yourself, Marcus. Louis wouldn’t have been able to stay awake for the time it took him to reach the main road if he wasn’t hopped up on the energy that that coffee afforded him.”

“Residents don’t lie and they don’t willingly commit wrongful acts,” Marcus rebukes. He turns to the Justices to continue his point. “Yes, Louis had help along the way,” he concedes. “But that just shows how many Residents believe in him. I’ve been dead for nearly three hundred years and I have never known of a single Resident to defy a Review verdict and help an Intake go rogue, and in the case of Louis Tomlinson, people were practically lining up to do just that! That alone should speak volumes on what kind of person he is; that alone should give everyone in this room insight into his character. And as far as the Resident coffee goes, I fully agree that it enabled him to stay awake in the beginning, but once Louis began running, that energy was quickly depleted and his will alone is what has kept him conscious for all of this time.”

“His verdict has already been rendered,” Ileana argues, but she doesn’t sound as angry as she has up until this point, like she’s losing some of her edge.

_“I’m not losing my edge.”_

Marcus looks her in the eyes and raises an eyebrow. She purses her lips in response. They both turn their attention back to the screen, just as Louis stumbles and falls, landing hard on the rocks and slamming his temple against the sharp corner edge of a railroad tie.

“Oh my god!” Ileana cries and Marcus recoils and lets out a gasp of his own, because his friend is hurting and to watch his agony unfold onscreen is horrifying.

Louis lays there motionless for a moment but then he somehow manages to push himself up onto his knees, his eyes blinking heavily and then opening wide as he brushes the tips of his fingers over his temple, which is currently oozing blood. He has a nasty gash and a bruise is already starting to form, and when Louis pulls his hand away and looks at his fingers, the pads are covered in blood. He stares at it confusedly as if he doesn’t even recognize what the thick liquid is, but then he wipes his hand across the front of his tupa, rendering three, bright red, smudgy stripes that leave horizontal stains like some kind of morbid sash. He stands upright, teetering back and forth on his feet before taking a shaky step forward.

Ileana covers her eyes and makes a noise of protest and when she pulls her hands away she exclaims, “This is torture and he’s suffering! We need to get someone onto those tracks to help him! He’s going to have a miserable start to his next life if this is how he leaves this realm.”

Marcus slams his fist on the table and Ileana jumps in her seat, the Chief Justice immediately banging her gavel to call Marcus back to order. But Marcus doesn’t apologize for his outburst and he doesn’t stay quiet either. Instead he declares, “ _You_ can help him, Ileana! He’s almost out of time and if you’re so concerned for his well-being, you can put a stop to this right now.”

Ileana’s mouth falls open, her expression completely shocked and her words are measured when she says, “This is a Disputation, Marcus. Louis’ verdict has been rendered. Just exactly what are you suggesting that I do to help?”

Marcus stares at the woman across the room and he knows that _she_ knows exactly what he’s going to suggest. He can read it on her face, just as easily as he can read the thoughts that are racing through her mind, not unlike the way that she can read his.

She can be so stubborn, but he knows that she’s not just defending her arguments simply because she wants to be right. She views Louis from the perspective of someone who has only examined the ways in which Louis has given in to fear and succumbed to failure. As the Delegate of his Review, she has spent countless hours pouring over footage of a lifetime’s worth of shortcomings and she’s never examined any of Louis’ strengths. It’s _not_ her job to look for reasons Intakes _shouldn’t_ be sent back to Earth, after all. In fact, the duties of her job are the exact opposite.

“I want you to formerly withdraw your opposition to Louis’ advancement so that he might move forward,” Marcus says, his voice calm and clear.

“You what?” Ileana asks, her eyes wide in shock that Marcus actually voiced such a request out loud.

“One of your main arguments for sending Louis back to Earth is that he’s never learned to overcome his fear. But if we’ve witnessed anything while watching this live feed, it’s that Louis is one of the bravest, hard-fighting Intakes this Review Panel has ever seen.”

“Marcus,” Ileana starts, but Marcus holds up his hand.

“Please let me finish, Ileana,” he replies and she stares at him for a moment and then nods in agreement.

“Your second main point was that Louis is afraid to love. Love is the greatest gift in the universe, and you made the argument that Louis rejected that gift when he turned away Harry last night.” Marcus points at the screen. Louis is wandering across the tracks in a sort of zigzag pattern, clearly unable to walk a straight line. There is a steady trickle of blood running down his temple and onto the side of his swollen cheek, and he lifts up his arm and brushes his sleeve over the spot, wincing in pain as he wipes at the injury, all the while mumbling, “Hrry, Hrry, Hrry,” again and again, unable to properly say the name that he’s obviously desperate to repeat. The train has almost reached the end of the train yard and Louis surely can no longer even see it, but still he marches onward.

“Louis has gone through all of this suffering just so that he could give his soul mate one last kiss before he moves on to the next realm. He did all of this for a _single_ _kiss_! He went through two energy fields! _Two!_ I’ve never heard of a rogue Intake making it past _one_ energy field, much less survive the brutal shock of two of them. But Louis did. He willingly put himself through so much pain and misery, and at the end of it all he didn’t even get that kiss, or even to touch Harry, for that matter. Yet he is _still_ carrying on!” Marcus lowers his voice and pushes his shoulder back, his entire demeanor intense and sure. “But he’s not going to last much longer. Look at him, Ileana. Does he look like a man who’s afraid to love?” He turns to the Justices then, repeating the question and then adding, “Does he look like a man who is ruled by fear?”

“Marcus,” Ileana mumbles and she rocks her head from side to side, her brow furrowed and her lips turned down and quivering. “I swore an oath – ”

“To defend the best interests of the universe!” Marcus responds, cutting her off. “With the fortitude he’s displayed this evening, my client has proven tenfold that he would be an asset to the universe! This Review Panel is making a huge mistake in sending him back.”

Ileana fish-mouths for a moment, unable to respond.

“Zoom in on the caboose car, please,” Marcus says.

“What?” Ileana asks, her voice shocked. “We’re only supposed to be looking at Louis, Marcus! Nothing that is happening on that train is of relevance to your argument.”

“It’s relevant if the person Louis is trying to get to is on that train. The Justices have a right to see what – _who_ , Louis has been fighting for.”

“Everyone in this room saw Harry when Louis was stood outside his train car, Marcus. We don’t need to see him again,” she argues and god, she is positively the most bull-headed person Marcus has ever known.

“Your honors?” Marcus says, turning to the Justices to seek their approval. Chief Justice Wen leans back in her seat and confers with her co-council before leaning forward and speaking into the microphone.

“We’ll allow,” she agrees.

The camera immediately pans away from Louis and zips along the railroad tracks until it reaches the caboose car and then it moves up, zooming in on the figure of a man standing at the back of the car and staring desperately out the large window that encompasses nearly the entire lower level of the train. The man is Harry, of course, and he’s pounding the flat of his hands furiously on the glass, violently sobbing as he calls out Louis’ name. He’s surrounded by New Residents, all of whom are trying to calm and comfort him, but Harry doesn’t even seem to notice them; he’s far too distraught to see anything beyond the man he’s leaving behind.

The scene is positively excruciating to watch and Marcus feels his own eyes well with tears at the magnitude of what is happening. He hears a sniffle coming from the Justices’ bench and he knows that they’re equally as affected. He walks around the table and stands in front of it, addressing Ileana directly.

“Harry is coming back to Judgment City to work after he’s studied in the next realm, Ileana. Louis told me as much during one of our conversations. If he advances without Louis, he is going to come here a broken man and eventually, you’re going to run into him, and you’re going to witness his devastation first hand.” His voice is quieter when adds, “And you’re going to know that you had the power to save him his heartache, and yet you did nothing to stop it.”

Ileana gasps at the implication and her eyes become glassy as tears start to form.

“Marcus,” she mumbles, shaking her head. He knows that she’s not even sure what to do or what to say, so he presses on.

“Put the camera back on Louis,” Marcus requests, and mercifully, the image onscreen zooms away from the sobbing man in the window of the caboose car and returns to the figure of a man that is barely standing upright, yet somehow is still managing to trudge along the tracks, his eyes staring blankly ahead, the sounds coming out of his mouth nonsensical.

“Tonight, Louis has more than proven that he’s not driven by fear, and most of all, he’s shown that he’s not afraid of love.” Marcus’ voice is so quiet and gentle as he walks across the room and stands in front of Ileana. She looks down at the floor and swallows thickly, the tears now falling down her beautiful cheeks. Marcus tucks his index finger beneath her chin, carefully lifting it and forcing her to meet his gaze.

“They’re just like us, ‘Lil,” he says reverently, calling her by the nickname he gave her when they first met nearly three hundred years ago. “Can you imagine if _we_ had been separated? Can you even begin to conceive what that would have done to the one of us who was left behind?”

“We’re not allowed to talk about our private lives during these Reviews, Marcus,” she weakly protests and Marcus just laughs softly in response.

“No, Ileana,” he argues. “We’re not allowed to talk about the Reviews we’re working on during our private time. Which, quite frankly is an absolute travesty if you ask me. If I had been able to speak to you directly about Louis outside of this Review Room, I could have told you all of the ways in which he is ready to move forward.” He lets out a heavy sigh when he adds, “And I wouldn’t have spent the past three nights sleeping on the couch.”

“Marcus!” Ileana exclaims, and she slaps her tiny hands on his chest, but it’s not meant to hurt him, rather it’s more in frustration and embarrassment. Marcus finds the gesture positively endearing.

From the opposite end of the Review Room, Marcus hears one of the Justices snicker and then the Chief Justice speaks into the microphone, saying, “We’ll allow this line of discussion to continue.”

Ileana huffs a loud gasp in shock and Marcus knows it’s because she’s completely unaccustomed to such blatant informalities as talk of an Advocate and Delegate’s personal lives during a Review session.

Marcus takes Ileana’s hands into his own and directs her attention to the screen. Louis is just standing there, rocking back and forth on his feet, staring blankly in the distance, his mouth moving but no words coming out.

“You know that I’ve never lied to you, Ileana, and I never will. Louis is ready.” Marcus is not even ashamed that his tone is positively broken when he pleads, “ _Help_ him, ‘Lil. _Please_. Help _both_ of them.”

The room goes quiet.

Marcus looks into Ileana’s eyes and at first she seems so confused and unsure, but then he sees it: the moment everything clicks for her and she just _gets_ it. Her eyes go wide and a look of panic flashes on her face, her voice breaking and shrill as she turns to the Justices. “Oh my god! You have to let him go through! He’s ready! Let him go through!”

Marcus feels like a fifty stone weight has just been lifted off his shoulders and he lets out a long, heavy breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

“Hurry!” Ileana shouts, completely uncaring that she’s screaming in a Review Room, at _Justices_ , no less. She points at the screen, frantic. “He’s going to fall asleep! You’ve got to let him advance!”

The Chief Justice leans forward. “Ms. Bachchan, are you stating that you’d wish to formally revoke your objection to the Intake moving forward in the universe and that instead, you wish to lobby for his advancement?”

“Yes! Yes!” Ileana answers, nodding her head rapidly. “What you just said, yes!”

Marcus slides his hand around her waist and pulls her close to his side because this is it, this is what he and Louis have been fighting for all week, but it’s not won yet. He still needs the two Justices who voted against Louis to change their opinions. For Louis’ verdict to be overturned, it must be a unanimous decision amongst all three Justices.

The Louis onscreen stumbles and then falls to his knees.

 _God, his poor body must be a bruised and battered mess,_ Marcus thinks to himself, and Ileana makes a desperate crying sound in response.

“Ms. Bachchan, I need you to actually say it: You wish to formally – ” the Chief Justice prompts, and Ileana immediately cuts her off, speaking over her, which under normal circumstances would be quite rude, but given that Louis looks like he’s going to keel face forward at any second, is entirely necessary. There isn’t time for formalities and decorum.

“I wish to formally revoke my objection to the Intake, Louis William Tomlinson, moving forward in the universe and instead I wish to lobby for his advancement,” Ileana rushes, her voice clear and strong, despite the tears that are slowing, but nonetheless still gliding down her cheeks. “I appeal to this Justice Panel that Mr. Tomlinson’s verdict be overturned and a new verdict of advancement be rendered.”

Marcus pulls her into a tight hug and even though they’re in the Review Room and their actions are once again, inappropriate, Ileana doesn’t fight him, she just collapses into his arm and presses her cheek against his neck, whispering, “I’m so sorry, Marcus.” He squeezes her tighter and kisses the top of her head.

Marcus looks to the Justices and they are conferring animatedly, quietly arguing back and forth and all the while Louis is edging ever closer to the precipice. Marcus’ heart is pounding wildly in his chest, because he’s frightened for his friend. Louis deserves to move forward and he just hopes that he gave him the defense that he deserves.

Ileana pulls back and looks at Marcus.

“You gave him the best defense I have ever heard, love,” she says and she looks so earnest and open that he can’t help himself, he leans forward to kiss her, their lips just about to meet when they’re interrupted by the sound of the Chief Justice clearing her throat. Ileana’s cheeks instantly flush bright pink and Marcus thinks he’s never seen anything so gorgeous as the way she looks right now. The two immediately break their embrace though, facing the Justice Panel. To Marcus’ great relief, the Chief Justice doesn’t look stern or disappointed; she just looks amused, which is a good sign.

She leans forward and speaks into the microphone.

“In the case of the formal application of the revocation of the verdict of Louis William Tomlinson, who left the Earthly realm on 22, February, 2022 and whose original verdict was that he was not properly prepared to advance in the universe and thus should begin a new life on Earth; this Justice Panel rules that…”

******

 “It’s called a placental abruption,” Dr. Cooper explains. “At least, that’s what I believe has happened to your wife. We won’t know for certain until the child is delivered, but this is hardly the first time I’ve dealt with this and the signs are all the there: the back labor, the severe abdominal pain, the sudden, heavy blood loss…”

Doctor Cooper is explaining to the husband why the wife was suddenly delirious and lying in a pool of her own blood, a scenario that their little family has experienced once before and one that had a heartbreaking outcome. The doctor is speaking, but the husband is having a difficult time comprehending what he’s even saying because it’s all too much, this sudden trauma, and he doesn’t know if he can handle it.

He’s never been more terrified. He’s suffered unbelievable loss this past week and he cannot lose his wife _or_ his child, too. This moment is supposed to be the joy that counters all of the sadness; it’s not supposed to bring more sorrow. But now his wife is in a surgical theater being prepped for an emergency delivery and the man before him has told him that he will give him exactly three minutes to explain what’s happening to her because he needs to go scrub-in for her surgery and he doesn’t have time to waste on idle chatter.

“But what does it all mean?” the husband asks, his voice both pleading and impatient.

“It means that your child’s placenta has separated from your wife’s uterus and if we don’t deliver the infant immediately it could suffer oxygen deprivation, brain damage, or even death,” Dr. Cooper lists all of these horrifying potential outcomes with the same dull affect he’s displayed every time he’s spoken to the wife or the husband. Given the severity of what he’s just said, one would think he would sound alarmed or display some sort of emotions, but he doesn’t; he remains cool and unbothered.

“What about Jess?” the husband asks.

“Mr. Smith, follow me toward the operating theaters. You’re wife will be prepped soon and I can’t waste any more time speaking to you in this room.” The husband nods his head rapidly in agreement because of course they should get moving, he doesn’t want to delay his wife’s care by even a second. “Your wife has lost a tremendous amount of blood,” Dr. Cooper continues as they quickly make their way down the main corridor and past Jessica’s parents who are seated in one of the waiting areas. They look positively frantic, but they don’t get up or interrupt when the husband makes eye contact with them and nods in acknowledgment, and he knows it’s because they trust him to report back every detail once he’s spoken to the doctor. “It’s not a good situation, but I’m going to do everything within my power to take care of her. She’ll likely need a transfusion, but I’ll know more when I’m in surgery.”

“Before they wheeled her out of the room, Jess said something to me,” the husband says, his voice thick as he tries to hold back his tears. “She told me that if you had to choose between her and the baby –” The husband interrupts himself with an anguished, shudder. He can’t believe he’s about to say these horrible words out loud, but he promised Jess he would tell the doctor and he loves her too much not to fulfill her request. “She told me to tell you to choose the baby.”

Dr. Cooper turns and looks at the husband directly, but his face is entirely unreadable. They keep moving down the corridor, walking faster still and then Dr. Cooper takes a sharp right and the husband scurries beside him down the hall.

“Is that your wish, as well, Mr. Smith?” Dr. Cooper asks, his tone so unconcerned he might as well be inquiring about the weather.

The husband feels a wave of panic washing over him because how is he even being presented with such a choice? He and his wife have been trying to have a child for four years and they’ve suffered two, brutal miscarriages along the way. This baby is their dream. But Jessica… Jessica is the husband’s whole world. He can’t lose her. He feels sick to his stomach at the thought, the grief that is already weighing heavily on his shoulders now threatening to bury him alive.

They approach a set of double doors that leads to the suite of operating theaters and Dr. Cooper enters a pass code into the keypad beside them and there is a loud clicking noise as the door lock is released. He grabs the handle and opens the right door, turning to the husband.

“Well?” he inquires, looking at the husband pointedly.

The husband starts to cry then, utterly unable to control his tears and not even embarrassed that he’s breaking down in front of this hard, indifferent man. But he does feel shame though, shame that however he answers this question, he’s making a choice between his wife and child of who should live and who should die, if such a need arises. He can’t believe he has to say the words but Dr. Cooper’s raises his eyebrows and the husband knows he can’t stall his answer.

“I can’t live without my wife,” he blurts out, despair flooding through him, his shoulders shaking with the weight of his heartache.

“Very well,” Dr. Cooper says, nodding curtly in acknowledgement. He opens the door all the way and steps across the threshold to the other side, the husband just standing there, staring stupidly at the man who will soon hold the lives of the love of his life and the child they’ve prayed for in his very own hands. Dr. Cooper begins to pull the door closed behind him and he’s just about to turn his back on the husband when he stops in his tracks and once again speaks. “But, I think you should know that I intend on saving them both.”

With that, Dr. Cooper turns on his heels and walks quickly down the hallway, disappearing from the husband’s view as the door falls quietly shut behind him.

The husband falls to his knees and sobs.

 

******

Louis is running.

At least, he _thinks_ he is running. His mind is so confused, he’s not sure of anything anymore. He makes a humorless little squeaking noise when it suddenly strikes him that he’s not running at all. Rather, he’s just standing on the gravel rocking back and forth on his raw and battered feet.

He tries to take a step forward but his legs are so rigid and leaden that he can barely lift them. Instead, he drags his feet slowly across the rough stones, which only serves to exacerbate the pain that encompasses his entire lower half, the sharp throbbing at his temple and the ache in his burning cheeks serving as an extra bonus to his agony.

 _Where am I even going?_ Louis wonders, but then he has a flashing vision of bright green eyes and raspberry lips and for a moment he remembers him; he remembers the man he loves and he tries to say his name.

“Hrry,” he grunts, but _that_ can’t be right. That doesn’t even sound like a name.

 _Harry_ , his mind corrects and Louis feels a rush of love flow through him. Harry is his soul mate. Harry is somewhere on a train moving away from Louis, but Louis is going to take a piece of Harry with him when he goes… when he goes to... Louis is not quite sure _where_ he is going, or why that unknown place fills him with such dread. He tilts his head from side to side, trying to clear his thoughts.

 _Harry_.

“Hrr,” he tries again, this time Harry’s name coming out even more garbled than before. Louis wishes he could see the other man’s face one more time, but the train has already carried him further away than Louis could possibly run, the shadowy outline of his body as he stood in the window of the caboose car shrinking from Louis’ view as the train disappeared into the night.

He probably couldn’t see him if the train was stood five meters away; the fog is so unbelievably heavy that Louis can no longer discern the rolling landscape that surrounds the tracks. He can barely make out the tracks themselves. He can’t see much of anything actually, except the dense whiteness that hangs thick in the air all around him.

He manages to take a step forward, but he immediately loses his balance and crashes to his knees, the instantaneous pain where his sore bones meet the hard and jagged gravel momentarily jarring him alert.

“Harry!” he cries out, shouting his lover’s name in reaction to the hurt. It feels so good to say it properly that Louis doesn’t even care that the rocks are cutting into his aching flesh. He smiles drunkenly, because Harry is his favorite person in the universe and he feels Harry’s love over every inch of his bruised and battered body. He thinks of Harry’s soft lips and what they felt like brushing against his own. He’d give anything to kiss Harry again. He tried so hard to make that happen.

The very first time he saw Harry he was stood across the room and Louis fell in love with him in that instant, and Harry fell in love with Louis, right back.

Louis _remembers_.

His brain is muddled and his moments of clarity are mixed with random thoughts and nonsensical images that serve to confuse him, but in this moment he remembers seeing Harry for the first time. He remembers their first proper kiss and how they were tucked away in a lift car and hanging on to one another like nothing in the universe mattered but the two of them. He remembers standing on the footie field and calling out to Harry to declare his love to him, and he remembers pressing in to him slowly this very afternoon, the way it felt when they finally made love… So many firsts, each of them perfect and each of them fleeting. Now it’s all come to an end.

It’s just that Louis is so tired and he doesn’t think he can hang on much longer.

He’s probably being irrational in not letting anyone help him, even though dozens of Residents have offered. Maybe his intentions are silly, but Louis doesn’t care. He’s going to stay right here on these train tracks until his last breath of death slips out of his mouth and the white fog consumes him whole. He doesn’t want to transition someplace comfortable or safe; he wants to transition on the very same path that is carrying Harry to his future, because this path is Louis’ last connection to him.

_Harry._

Louis feels a crushing wave of sadness because Harry is already on his way to the next realm and Louis is on his way to becoming a crying, helpless infant somewhere. But Louis can’t afford to think about that right now. He just needs to concentrate on Harry so he can somehow carry a tiny fragment of memory of his soul mate with him into his next life.

_Harry._

Louis tries to push himself up off the ground, but his legs are so heavy and they are refusing to move and so he collapses back onto his aching knees. His journey is ending and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“Hrry,” he says out loud, and once again his voice is slurred and the word is broken. He swallows and clears his throat and tries again, and as he does so, Louis feels everything slipping away. He knows that this is it and his previous moment of lucidity was just as fleeting as his time with his soul mate. He’s been fighting for so long and now the fight is coming to an end. He chokes a loud sob, his anguish over all that he is losing all consuming, but he knows, _he remembers_ , that he made a promise that he would repeat the name of the person he loves best until the very end. He just really wants to say his name properly, one final time. He leans back on his knees, the weight on his damaged shins causing him to groan in pain, but other than that he ignores his own suffering and instead draws in a deep breath, pushing the name out with all of his might, willing himself to say it, just once more.

“Harry.”

It comes out as nothing more than a soft cry, but Louis is so happy just the same and he breaks into a pleased smile, his eyes crinkling with joy and pride.

 _Harry_ , he thinks to himself and he jerks his arms out in front of him because he can no longer balance on his weak and shaking knees and shins and he knows he’s going to fall. He collapses forward and his hands scrape across the gravel but his arms are too weak to support him and his chest and head immediately come crashing down, narrowly missing the cross tie that is directly in front of him. He settles splayed out on his stomach, his arms folded at his sides and his legs extended behind him.

 _Harry_.

He has to take him with him. He has to take the other man with him, no matter what. Louis’ eyes are heavy and the fog is everywhere, the only thing visible to him is the white and grey gravel that fills the voids between the cross ties that serve as his bed. He blinks slowly and his mind flashes on a bed that was like a floating cloud that overlooked a beautiful city. He shared that bed with someone and although he’s not sure who that someone is, he knows he needs to take that person with him when he leaves this place.

 _Harry_ , his mind dully repeats, but he’s not really certain what that word means, even though it keeps cycling through his brain like something he can’t let go of, something he needs to hold onto with everything he has.

_Harry._

_Harry._

_Harry._

Louis is giving in and he’s ready. He doesn’t even know anymore that he _shouldn’t_ give in and it’s so peaceful. His eyes fall shut and he’s bathed in rays of warmth. It’s wonderful here in the sunshine on this fluffy cloud bed and he’s so comfortable, feels so utterly safe. There is a warm body on top of him and he strokes his fingers through soft curls and down a broad back, the love emanating from this other person – a man – overwhelming and filling up every single inch of him.

_Har-._

He wants to hang on, knows that there is a reason to stay, but if he can keep hold of this strong, gentle body that puffs little warm breaths against his skin, all be okay. He squeezes his arms tighter around the other man, feels the man’s face burrow against his neck, his curls tickling his cheek.

The light is giving way to fields of color that wash over him, causing his skin to tingle pleasantly and he relaxes even further, but still he hangs onto the person who rests on his chest, wrapping his own legs around the other man’s calves to keep him in place, not wanting to go anywhere without him.

_H-_

Almost as fast as he and the other man are wrapped in swirling colors, darkness encroaches upon them, but it’s not frightening, it’s just beautiful blackness that settles all around before closing in. The darkness forms a tunnel, at the end of which is a pinpoint of light that slowly gets bigger; a tiny circle that expands into a large egress sizable enough to comfortably pass through. Whatever is on the other side of that circle of light is inviting and desirable and he wants to go to it; he _needs_ to go to it actually, but only if he can take the other man with him. He doesn’t know why he’s so desperately connected to this person, but he doesn’t want to leave this place without him. They’re approaching the light, moving in that very direction when it suddenly starts to close back in, the opening getting smaller until it disappears into nothingness and why is that happening when he needs to get to the other side?

Louis’ eyes fly open and he startles awake, drawing in a shocked, gasping breath. In front of him, he sees a flash of gravel that is almost completely obliterated by a wall of fog, but nothing else. His heart is pounding in his chest and his body is wracked with pain. He exhales and his eyes once again snap heavily shut and he is immediately surrounded in darkness. He surrenders to the pull instantaneously and fully: this time without a fight.

Louis Tomlinson goes to sleep.

 

******

_“Louis, I need you to wake up.”_

Louis hears a muffled voice that seeps into his unconsciousness and infiltrates his slumber. The voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere in the distance, and it doesn’t even bother Louis really, he’s too far out of it to even recognize the words the voice is saying. He’s too far out of it to even know what “words” are, at all. His brain is completely jumbled, the echoed sounds that are spoken to him making little sense.

He feels a warm hand on his shoulder.

 _“Louis, it’s time to wake up,”_ the distant voice reiterates. Louis pays it no mind.

_“Louis, I know you’re exhausted and you’re also probably very confused, but I promise you that once you get up, you’ll come out of it fairly quickly. So how about you try and sit up for me, all right?”_

This time the voice is a bit closer, and there is something about it that’s strangely… familiar. But still, Louis doesn’t want to respond to the voice’s call, even though his looped brain is actually starting to understand a few of the words that the man behind the voice is saying, particularly the phrase, “get up.”

Louis doesn’t want to get up.

He’s utterly exhausted and he just wants to sleep. He needs to be allowed to rest more than anything; he’s desperate for it, actually. But he can’t very well sleep if this man keeps disturbing him and why won’t he just go away and let him be?

 _“The poor darling,”_ comes a female voice, and something about the sound of it causes Louis’ body to instantly stiffen, a cold shot of anger and resentment shooting through him. Yet, in contrast to this visceral reaction, the woman’s voice sounds so… caring and concerned… and that just serves to confuse Louis more. _“Just look at him,”_ the female coos. _“He’s not even moving. He’s completely catatonic.”_

 _“I suppose I shouldn’t remind you that the reason he’s so out of is your doing,”_ the man says, his voice teasing.

 _“And I suppose I shouldn’t remind you that the only reason he isn’t waking up in a far different place and under entirely different circumstances, is also because of me,”_ the woman responds, and she sounds almost… flirtatious.

Louis doesn’t really care about the banter going on above him though. His thoughts are so garbled that he doesn’t understand most of what the two people are saying. He just needs the seemingly incessant chatter to stop, because the more the two people continue to talk, the more Louis becomes aware of a throbbing pain that is resonating throughout his entire body, his bones and his muscles achingly sore as if he’s just done twelve rounds in a boxing ring against the heavyweight champ, followed up by a marathon run. The space Louis was in before was warm and comfortable, and also blissfully pain-free. Louis wants to go back to that space. He wants to go back to sleep and why won’t these two just leave him alone?

 _“I wish we could let him sleep a bit longer,”_ the woman says, seeming to read Louis’ thoughts.

_“‘Lil, it took us nearly twenty minutes to get over here from the Center and he’s been sleeping that entire time. He’s rested enough. We have to get him up before the train gets back.”_

Louis’ eyes snap open at that comment. He’s not sure why, but something about the word “train” is of great interest to him. He blinks heavily, willing his cloudy brain to clear, but it simply isn’t happening. His head is swimming, like he’s completely smashed and stoned on top of it.

“Well, look what we have here. He’s opened his eyes,” the man remarks. His voice is much louder and clearer now and he sounds _so_ familiar, but Louis is unable to place him. He still can’t even decipher all of the words the man is saying, but what he does understand is that the soft surface that he’s been laying on so comfortably and contentedly suddenly feels hard and unforgiving against his battered body, with rough hewn objects pressing painfully into his skin in places that Louis can now recognize as being wounded. Despite how much Louis is longing to sleep, he needs for this discomfort to end and maybe if he gets up like the man suggests, they’ll help him get to a bed, or even a soft patch of grass. A soft patch of grass would be heaven right now.

_“You’re my Heaven, Louis.”_

Louis’ cheeks flush at the thought that just rushed through his brain. He’s not sure where they came from or what they even mean, but somehow the words make him feel… warm.

“Mmmph.” Louis makes a muffled groaning sound willing himself to move, but his body protests.

“Whoa! Hold on, Louis. Let me help you,” the man says.

“I’ll help from the other side,” the female offers, and Louis can hear the crunching of gravel as she walks around his body. She crouches down beside him and a fresh, flowery fragrance fills Louis’ nostrils, and when the man stoops down on the other side, Louis takes in a crisp, masculine scent that is both pleasant and familiar. The man bends low to the gravel, practically resting his head on the ground to look Louis in the eyes and as Louis stares back at him through blurred vision, he recognizes something in the man and he just knows that he knows him from somewhere, but he has no idea how. The man smiles warmly at him.

“It will come back to you, Louis. We just need to get you up.”

Louis feels the man wrap a strong arm around his waist, while the woman gently grabs onto his shoulders. Carefully and slowly, they pull Louis partially upright so that he’s resting on his knees, which immediately flare with a pain so sharp that Louis lets out a low, grunting cry, the ache pulsing in his kneecaps and especially intense in his left shin. The man and the woman quickly agree between themselves to let Louis have a brief rest before they attempt to move him further and Louis is grateful because he doesn’t think he can handle too much more of this. He lifts his head just long enough to see a wall of white fog in front of him and then he drops it unceremoniously and his eyes immediately fall shut. Maybe, if these two just hold him like this, he’ll be able to go back to sleep. But instead, they keep talking, which Louis finds incredibly irritating.

“He’s so banged up,” the female comments, her voice sad. “I positively hate how much suffering he’s endured.”

“He’ll be better in a day or two,” the man counters. “Resident bodies heal quickly, ‘Lil. You know that.”

“I know, but he’s hurting now.”

“I’ve already arranged for medication to be sent along with his new garments to the train, and I’m sure his boy will help take care of him.”

“ _His boy.”_

Louis’ eyes open wide at that comment and he draws in a sharp, surprised breath.

“Well, that sure got his attention,” the man chuckles. “If anything will bring him out of this stupor, it’s that boy of his.”

Louis closes his eyes tight and tries to concentrate, suddenly longing to decipher what this man is talking about, almost more than he wants to sleep. But Louis’ mind is still addled and he’s not sure what anything means and sleep would be amazing right now anyway.

“I think it’s time to get him on his feet,” the woman suggests. “It would be best if he was alert before the train gets back.”

Louis doesn’t even know what’s happening, but suddenly his body is being gently tugged the rest of the way upright and then he’s standing unsteadily on feet that positively burn, the man and woman holding on to him for support. Louis blinks his eyes slowly and the fog that was so thick in the air is starting to clear a bit and he can see a long stretch of railroad track ahead of him. It’s dark out, but there are a series of lights spaced evenly along the outsides of the tracks for the next one hundred meters or so, and they illuminate the ground that Louis and the other two are standing on. He feels the woman let go of him and she steps out of the way and now his body is fully supported by the other man and Louis instinctively leans against him. If he can rest his head on this man’s shoulder, maybe he’ll be able to go back to sleep.

“No, Louis,” the man gently chastises. “I need you to stand upright on your own now. You can sleep when you’re settled, but I suspect once you properly wake up, you’re going to find that you’re not tired at all.”

“B-bllsht,” Louis grunts out, the garbled word coming to him from out of nowhere to signify his displeasure. He is just is so exhausted and frustrated and this man doesn’t seem to understand or have empathy for his situation, at all.

“Oh! He made his first little word,” the woman happily declares.

“Leave it to my fighter to come back swearing,” the man says, and despite the fact that the other man is standing next to him and out of Louis’ clouded field of vision, Louis can practically see the smirk on his face. “I’m going to let go of you now, Louis. I know that you can stand on your own.”

Just like that, the man carefully pulls his arm away from Louis’ waist and Louis is forced to hold the weight of his body by himself. He sways on his feet for a moment, his muscles unbelievably stiff and his bones and broken skin sore. But then he manages to find his balance. He draws in a deep breath and blows it out slowly, having some intuitive sense that doing so will help him to feel calm, and the simple action actually helps. He’s surprised that when he draws in his next breath, the fog has lessoned significantly and now is concentrated low to the ground, with just a wispy mist left lingering in the air.

Louis yawns loudly, but he’s not feeling nearly as tired as he was a few minutes previous. Maybe this man and woman know what they are talking about and were right all along. The man stands directly in front of Louis and faces him.

“I want you to look at me, Louis. Really look at me and then tell me my name.”

Louis stares at the man carefully. He _does_ know him; Louis is certain of it. The man has a mischievous look about him, but he also appears to be very kind and Louis knows that he likes him. He senses that the other man is something like a brother to him and without even realizing it; Louis closes his hand into a fist and raises his arm to chest level, extending the fist towards the man. The man’s eyes go wide and he nods his head happily as he mimics Louis’ gesture, making a fist of his own and then bumping it against Louis’.

“That’s right,” the man says proudly. “You’re coming back. Now tell me, Louis; what’s my name?”

Louis furrows his brow, the simple action causing a dull throb in his temple, but he ignores the pain and studies the other man carefully. His name is on the tip of Louis’ tongue and he opens and closes his mouth a few times trying to say it, but he’s unable to make a sound, the name just out of his grasp.

“You can do it, Louis,” the other man encourages. “I believe in you.”

Louis nods his head in agreement because he _can_ do this. He knows this man and he is certain they are connected. This man is his friend and he wants to acknowledge as much. Louis coughs softly, clearing his throat and as he does so, his entire mouth suddenly burns with a pungent taste, but he swallows it down, intent on speaking. He feels a rush of pride as the man’s name fully registers in his brain and he forces the sounds that comprise that name out of his ravaged throat and mouth.

“K-Kanye Wessst,” Louis says and the man huffs loudly and throws his head back in exasperation. From behind Louis, the woman lets out a shriek of laughter.

“Oh, come on!” the man exclaims. “You cannot be serious!”

“Oh god, that’s good,” the woman says as she continues to laugh. Louis has no idea what’s so funny, but her laughter sounds sweet and it makes him smile. “I’m going to have to remember that one!”

The man just blows out a heavy breath and shakes his head in frustration and Louis’ smile falters because he’s disappointed this person that he is sure is his friend and it makes him feel embarrassed and ashamed.

“No, no, Louis!” the other man says, gripping Louis’ shoulders and looking into his eyes. He lets out a soft little laugh of his own and it immediately brings Louis comfort. The man’s voice is soothing when he continues to speak. “It’s okay, Louis. Don’t be upset with yourself; you’re doing great. Lord knows I’ve heard that one before. It fact, you made that same mistake the very first time we met.” The man tilts his head and adds emphatically, “Just so we’re clear; I am not now, nor have I ever been, Kanye West. You know my name, Louis. Just think.”

Louis nods his head and looks the other man over from head to toe, and then it happens: Louis feels the warm dawning of recognition. His mind flashes with a series of rapidly moving images of the man in front of him. Louis sees visions of himself shaking the man’s hand for the first time, doing a slow circle so that the man can for some reason look at Louis’ arse in the garment he is wearing, and he literally _feels_ the man leaning in close and offering comforting words of assurance to him. He pictures himself sharing a pint with this man and confiding in him something deeply personal that tugs at Louis’ heart, and lastly an image settles of this man standing in some sort of courtroom and declaring to the people assembled what a good and honorable person Louis is.

 _This man has helped me_ , Louis thinks and he feels tears well in his eyes, suddenly overcome with emotion. He says the name quietly and on a shuddering breath.

“M-Marcus.”

The man, Marcus, throws his arms around Louis and pulls him into a hug. Louis collapses into it willingly, despite the pain that radiates throughout his body at the gesture.

“Marcus,” Louis quietly repeats and he’s so relieved because he’s finally found his voice. “I-I remember you.” Marcus pulls back and smiles proudly at Louis. His eyes are a little glassy and Louis suspects this interaction holds a great deal of meaning for him, but he’s still not really sure why. The feeling of utter inebriation might finally be lifting from his brain just as surely as the fog is lifting all around him, but he’s still pretty confused about things.

“Do you remember _me_ , Louis?” comes the female voice. The woman steps out from behind him and stands next to Marcus. Louis immediately recoils and makes a short, gasping noise.

“M’not afraid!” he rushes as he takes her in fully. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to say these words, but he has a sense that his own fear is somehow a very big deal to her.

Her face immediately falls and she actually looks sad… regretful, even.

“I know you’re not afraid, Louis. I’m so sorry for all that you’ve gone through.” She ducks her head for a moment and she looks almost ashamed when she raises it again and her eyes meet Louis’ own. “I’m so sorry for all that _I’ve_ put you through.”

Louis sees her then, and just like he did with Marcus, a series of images of the woman flash before him that cause him to feel sharp pangs of hurt and stress, countered with brief moments of kindness and compassion. Marcus tried to help him, Louis knows that for sure, but this woman… this woman tried to send him away somewhere that Louis did not want to go.

_The Dragon Lady._

Louis’ just stares at her, because she’s looking at him so hopefully, like she wants things to be right between them and he really doesn’t know how to react or what to think. He’s still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together and the task is almost unimaginable in its magnitude. He has a brief moment where a thought about some sort of oath passes through his mind, but it disappears as quickly as it arrives. Honestly, he doesn’t know what to think about this woman, but finally, he has a sense of who she is and then her name pops into his head.

“Ileana?” Louis questions. She turns her lips up in a cautious smile.

“Hello, Louis,” she answers warmly. She’s so beautiful and Louis can detect compassion coming from her, but he still has trepidation in regards to her intentions. His friend Marcus seems to like her, even though Louis has the very real sense that the two of them were fighting recently, fighting over Louis, in fact. Louis trusts Marcus and if Marcus trusts and likes her, maybe he should give her a chance. “You can trust me. I promise,” she says, and Louis wants to believe her.

Marcus wraps his arm around Ileana’s waist, pulling her close to his side and pressing a kiss to her hair and whoa! Louis might not remember a lot and he might still be coming down from whatever high he was on, but something about this picture is _not_ right. He experiences a sudden sense of clarity when he remembers that Marcus is a married man and considering as much, why is he holding on to this woman that Louis is certain he’s been sparring with? He’s clutching her like she’s some sort of lover and that’s just wrong. Louis is quite taken aback, actually, because being the type of man who cheats on his wife seems completely outside of Marcus’ character. At least, from what Louis remembers of his character, anyway.

Louis leans in to Marcus and lowers his voice, tilting his head in Ileana’s direction as he stares in Marcus’ eyes. Louis’ brain is still pretty clouded, so he doesn’t even realize that he’s being ridiculously loud when he asks, “Marcus… Does your wife know about this?”

Marcus laughs loudly and Ileana just blushes and tucks in closer to Marcus as he takes her hand into his own.

“Louis,” Marcus declares like he’s stating the most obvious thing in the world. “Ileana _is_ my wife.”

“What?” Louis exclaims, his voice full of shock, because this is definitely _wrong_. “You’re married to The Dragon Lady?”

This time, it’s Ileana’s turn to express shock at Louis’ words and she immediately slaps her hand against Marcus’ chest, her face contorting into an angry pout.

“Nearly three hundred years,” she grumbles. “We’ve been married nearly three hundred years and you are _still_ referring to me as ‘The Dragon Lady’.” She pulls out of his grip and crosses her arms defiantly in front of her chest, but she doesn’t look completely angry. Rather, she seems to be engaged in some kind of sexy banter with Marcus because he reaches over and unfolds her arms and easily pulls her back into his own. He doesn’t even seem to be embarrassed to be engaging in such an overt display of affection in front of Louis, he simply begins to pepper a series of kisses over Ileana’s cheeks that at first she tries to resist, but then quickly gives in to fully, giggling as she kisses him back.

Louis just stands there watching them with his mouth hanging open.

“To be fair, I didn’t invent that nickname, ‘Lil,” Marcus says as he tucks a piece of her long black hair behind her ear. Something about that simple gesture makes Louis’ heart ache, but he’s not sure why. “I just kept it alive.”

_Alive._

_Alive._

The word repeats itself in Louis’ brain and then a huge piece of the puzzle falls into place.

“I’m dead,” Louis whispers. Marcus and Ileana immediately snap out of their revelry, both of them turning their attention back to Louis.

“That’s right, Louis,” Marcus says, his voice encouraging. “You’re getting more of your memory back. You’re doing so well.”

“You really are,” Ileana sweetly agrees. She reaches out a tentative hand; unsure if Louis will let her touch him, but when he doesn’t shirk away she brushes just the tips of her fingers over his shoulder and down his arm. The touch is gentle and reassuring and Louis feels a cry bubbling in his throat because a thousand things are coming back to him at once and he doesn’t know how to process them all. “Just breathe, Louis,” Ileana advises, and he does just that.

Louis takes in deep, measured breaths as it all comes rushing to him: his family, his friends, and his life on Earth. Visions of his mum and sisters and brother flicker before him like snippets from a movie reel, with others like Liam and Eleanor and the artist interspersed within the montage. They move so fast, these images, but they fill in all the empty puzzle pieces and it’s like he’s watching his whole life unfold from start until end, not unlike the way he did at the moment before he drew in his last breath on Earth.

Then suddenly, missing pieces of his death and the Afterlife come to the forefront and he remembers a semi truck barreling into the side of the car he was driving, he sees a long corridor and his arms hanging limply in his lap as he’s pushed through. Louis experiences snippets of Marcus and Ileana and Donald, followed by the friends he’s made on this side like Margaret and Rowan and Peter. It’s all filling in so quickly as Louis recounts the experiences of his life and death, the entire play taking only a handful of seconds.

But something is missing. _Someone_ is missing and Louis is so confused because he is suddenly filled with so much grief that he can’t help himself and he starts to properly cry. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, trying to think, trying to remember, because there is a huge piece of his body and soul that is just… _gone,_ and he doesn’t know what to do to get it back, but he’s sure he’ll never experience true happiness again without it.

_Without him._

“Louis,” Marcus says calmly. He reaches out his hand and gently grips Louis’ shoulder. “You were right on the verge of transitioning when your verdict was reversed. You were already starting to slip under when the official decree was made and the portal to the other side was closed.”

Louis stares at Marcus blankly, his words not fully registering, but he nonetheless remembers this experience and he’s unsure of what it all means. He remembers laying on a fluffy cloud bed in the warm sunshine as the sunlight disappeared into a field of color and then into utter blackness. There was light at the end of that blackness, but then it disappeared and he felt so startled and empty when it was taken away. But most of all, Louis remembers that although he was desperate to go into that light; he didn’t want to go into it alone. He was holding on to someone and that person provided him such a safe and loving feeling.

“You actually managed to carry a piece of him with you, Louis,” Marcus says, impressed. “You promised him you would do just that and you actually made it happen.”

Louis starts to cry harder, his shoulders shaking and his heart positively throbbing with the very real, visceral reaction he is experiencing to something that he doesn’t even understand. It’s like the entire puzzle is filled in now, but there is a piece missing from the very center and without that piece, the puzzle is worthless.

“The fact that you hung on so tightly until the very end is the reason why you’re struggling so much now,” Marcus comforts. “You’re not yet entirely present and your thoughts are still a little bit muddled, aren’t they, Louis?”

Louis nods his head and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“What’s happening to me, Marcus?” he asks. “Why don’t I remember?”

“Because he was your very last thought as your soul prepared to leave this realm, Louis, and you’re still not fully alert. You came really close to transitioning… dangerously close, in fact. But once you come all the way out of that void, you’ll bring him back with you.”

A thought passes through Louis’ mind then and he absently mumbles it aloud.

“And you smiled because you knew.”

“What?” Ileana questions. “What did you just say, Louis?”

Louis looks over to her and he feels like he’s holding the last piece of the puzzle in his hands when he says the words again.

“And you smiled because you knew.”

“Those words mean something to you and your boy, don’t they, Louis?” Marcus asks. Louis slowly nods his head in agreement, because the words _do_ mean something.

“I saw you and I fell in love,” Louis whispers, repeating the verse out of order, but nonetheless suddenly understanding its full meaning.

_Harry._

“Oh god,” Louis whispers and he begins to cry harder. “Harry!”

And just like that, the final piece slips into place and the puzzle is complete.

Louis remembers.

He’s inundated with visions of a beautiful man with long chestnut hair that falls in loose curls over broad shoulders. He sees green eyes and raspberry lips and creamy skin covered in dark ink, and he can actually taste the salty tang of that sweet flesh, his fingertips tingling like they did when they touched its smooth surface. He remembers whispers and laughter and secrets shared. He thinks of lush kisses and gentle caresses and quiet moans that send a thrill throughout his entire body. Harry is his soul mate. He’ Louis’ other half and Louis’ heart is instantly full at the revelation. But then, just as suddenly as he feels all of the love that he has for Harry flowing through him, he remembers that Harry is gone, and he begins to sob uncontrollably.

Louis starts to drop to his knees, but Marcus reaches out and catches him, and it’s a good thing, because Louis’ knees probably couldn’t take too much more abuse. Marcus pulls Louis back upright and Louis collapses into the other man’s chest.

“He’s gone!” Louis cries, his voice desperate and broken. “He’s gone away and I didn’t even get to give him one last kiss before he left!”

“Shhhh,” Marcus soothes, trying to calm his friend. “It’s okay. It’s going to be all right.”

Louis draws in a choked breath because it’s _not_ going to be all right. Harry is gone and Louis is no doubt going to be sent back to Earth at any minute and how is any of that okay? He pulls back a little and wipes his sleeve across his eyes, but immediately is bombarded with a smell so vile that he almost gags. He instantly remembers drinking the Resident coffee and feels a sharp twisting in his gut when he realizes that even that horrible gesture wasn’t enough to get him to his soul mate.

“I just wanted to kiss him one more time,” Louis repeats. “I tried so hard, Marcus. I wanted to hold him one last time so badly.” He starts to sob harder, his voice cracking as he whimpers, “And now that’s never going to happen.” He once again falls against Marcus, his tears saturating Marcus’ lapel as the other man gently pats his back.

“Louis, I need you to look at me, please,” Marcus says, but Louis doesn’t want to look at him. He remembers his verdict clearly now. He remembers having to tell Harry he was being sent back to Earth and how those words broke both their hearts. His mind quickly traces over the ungodly journey he took to get to this very spot on the train tracks, and at the way that Harry looked so broken and empty as he pounded on the window of that caboose car as he was transported away from Louis and onto the next realm. Louis aches with the memory of standing there helplessly, wavering on his feet and unable to do anything to stop what was happening to them. “Look at me, Louis,” Marcus again prompts. “You fought so hard to see Harry, Louis. I know you did. We all know you did. That’s why you’re still here.”

Louis drops his head against Marcus’ chest, shaking with the weight of his heartbreak, when he suddenly realizes what Marcus has just said and he freezes. Because, what? Louis looks up at Marcus then. He breaks the hug, slowly taking a step backwards to access the other man fully, his raw and blistered feet stinging at the simple movement.

“What?” he gasps. Marcus’ face lights up with a warm smile.

“Louis, do you still think you’re being sent back to Earth?” Marcus asks, and Louis doesn’t know why Marcus could be possibly smiling when delivering such a horrible question because of course he’s being sent back to Earth and… wait a minute.

_“We have to get him up before the train gets back… Resident bodies heal quickly… You were just on the verge of transitioning when your verdict was reversed.”_

Marcus’ words speedily replay through Louis’ head. He was so out of it when Marcus spoke them that he didn’t even grasp their meaning. But still, even though he’s remembering the words that Marcus said, Louis is afraid to believe them. He’s suffered so much disappointment already. He’s terrified that this is some kind of a joke.

“It’s not a joke, Louis,” Marcus responds as if reading Louis’ mind, which, given the percentage of brain he uses, he probably is. “Your decision was reversed, Louis. You don’t have to worry about getting a last kiss with Harry, because there will be no more ‘lasts’ for the two of you, _ever_ again. You’re going with him.”

“What?” Louis croaks, his voice breathy and his heart racing in his chest. He can feel himself breaking out in a light sweat, he’s suddenly so nervous and so… _exhilarated_ that his hands start to shake, his entire body weak, but his brain nonetheless now fully awake and cognizant.

“You heard me,” Marcus says with a grin. “The train is coming back for you, Louis. You’re moving forward with your boy.”

Louis doesn’t know what to do. He takes another step backwards, almost tripping on the railroad tie behind him, a biting pain shooting through his left hip at the sharp movement, but he doesn’t care. He just looks back and forth between Marcus and Ileana, who are both smiling at him with so much unfettered happiness that Louis actually starts to believe this is real. He directs his attention to Ileana.

“But… but you wanted to send me back,” Louis says and Ileana nods slightly in acknowledgment. “You said I was guided by fear. You accused me of being afraid of love!”

“I did,” she agrees. Once again, Marcus wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her in close. Louis will not get used to seeing _that_ anytime soon, but he has other matters on his mind so he lets it go for now. “But I was wrong about you, Louis. You’re very brave and the way that you’ve shown your love today…” She shakes her head and lets out a soft little sigh, her eyes suddenly becoming glassy and Louis can’t believe it because The Dragon Lady looks like she’s about to cry. “You fought so hard for your love, Louis. You’re not afraid of love at all. I’m so proud of you.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say, he just stares at her in shock, opening and closing his mouth before he finally manages to eke out a quiet, “Thank you.”

Ileana smiles warmly at Louis and Marcus presses another kiss against her temple. “Ileana’s the reason you’re moving forward, Louis,” Marcus says proudly. “She formally requested that your verdict be reversed and the Justices agreed to her request. If she hadn’t done that, you’d be crying in a pram somewhere about now.”

“You did that for me?” Louis asks, completely dumbfounded, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. He can’t believe that Ileana is the person who helped him, but he also is having a hard time focusing because a single word is replaying on a loop in his brain and that word is: _Harry, Harry, Harry_.

“The only reason I made that request is because you have the most brilliant Advocate in the universe and he convinced me it was the right thing to do,” Ileana responds, staring up at Marcus like he hung the moon. “Marcus is the real reason you’re here, Louis. You were very lucky to have him.”

Marcus and Ileana gawk at each other stupidly for a moment and Louis can’t believe he never noticed it before because it’s so obvious that they’re soul mates. Still, he can’t get over the fact that Marcus’ soul mate is The Dragon Lady and why is he even thinking about that because he gets to see Harry again and that’s the only thing in the universe that matters.

“When do I get to see Harry?” Louis abruptly asks, his voice high pitched and eager. He laughs loudly as it all hits him: the unimaginable relief and the absolute exultation that his nightmare is over. He’s going to see Harry again and not just for a kiss, either. He’s going to be with him forever and this is really happening. The tears that had somewhat abated start up again in full force, but this time they are tears of pure joy and utter gratitude and Louis just lets them fall freely, completely uncaring of the fact that he’s already cried buckets over the past few hours.

Just then, a loud noise can be heard from over the horizon, where the tracks have disappeared into the night. Louis blinks as he looks in the direction of the sound, surprised by the fact that the fog has completely dissipated and the night is now crystal clear. Louis’ eyes dart to Marcus then and he looks at Louis knowingly.

“The fog was in your mind, Louis,” Marcus says, tapping his temple to illustrate his point.

“What?” Louis asks as the noise in the distance gets louder, closer.

“The fog was in your mind,” Marcus repeats and it suddenly all makes sense, because every time Louis slapped himself alert or experienced any sort of reprieve from his exhaustion, the fog would suddenly seem less dense.

“I just…” Louis mumbles, overwhelmed and unable to articulate his thoughts properly. “Transitioning was certainly a mind-bending experience.”

“ _Nearly_ transitioning,” Marcus corrects. “But that’s over now and you’ll never have to worry about what you went through again. Besides, it looks like your train has arrived. It’s time for you to go to your boy, Louis.”

Louis jerks his head sharply, turning his attention to the railroad tracks in front of him. Marcus and Ileana step to the side and sure enough, the massive gold train is slowly rolling backwards across the tracks, edging ever closer to them.

“Oh my god!” Louis exclaims, slapping his hand over his mouth. The tips of his fingers strike his swollen and sore right cheek and Louis winces at the pain but none of that matters because the train is getting closer now and this is real: the train is coming back for Louis and he’s moving forward with his soul mate.

Louis hears the sound of footsteps coming up behind him and crunching gravel and he turns to see the source of the noise, wondering if somehow Harry is already here at the station. But instead of Harry, what Louis sees are two male Residents, dressed in carefully pressed uniforms comprised of fitted, black three-piece suits, with crisp white shirts, and matching shiny gold ties and handkerchiefs. One of the men carries an armful of tupas on hangers, the garments produced in the same luminescent silken material as the tupas Harry and the other New Residents were wearing when Louis saw them on the train platform. The other man carries a large golden box, its contents hidden beneath a fancy black and gold lid.

“Right on schedule,” Marcus says.

“What’s… what’s all this?” Louis asks, but he feels a rush of excitement because he’s almost positive he knows what _this_ is.

“It’s your New Resident swag, Louis,” Marcus says with a grin. “Tupas, pants, footwear… I even had them throw in a nice pair of slippers to give your poor, wretched feet a bit of a break.” Louis’ eyes fall shut at that one because just the thought of putting on a pair of slippers sounds like bliss.

The train continues to slowly back in towards the station, the massive window that encompasses the back of the caboose car now clearly visible, but it’s still too far away for Louis to discern anyone standing on the other side of the glass. He squints his eyes, hoping to see Harry nonetheless.

“You’re going to be a sight for Harry’s sore eyes,” Ileana comments, and her words suddenly remind Louis of what he must look like and he makes a squeaking noise in horror. Without thinking about it, he pulls off his tupa belt and hands it to Marcus and quickly straightens the front of his garment, running his hands down his sleeves and gasping slightly when his fingers dance over the gash on his bicep that was caused by the lilac branch. Louis tugs at the back of his tupa skirt, the material still damp from the sprinklers, and then Marcus hands back his belt and Louis reapplies it around his waist. Louis then combs his fingers through his fringe, sweeping it to the side before trying to pat down his hair. When satisfied that he’s done as much as he can, considering the filthy state of his garment and the dirty, bloody battered state of his own body, he looks back and forth between Ileana and Marcus who stare at him amusedly, and then he solicits their opinion.

“H-how do I look?” he stutters nervously. He just wants to look nice for Harry. He loves him so much.

“Louis, I don’t think your boy is going to care much what you look like. He’s going to be so happy to see you that your physical appearance is going to be the very last thing on his mind,” Marcus answers diplomatically. “That having been said, you look… you look happy, Louis, and it’s a very good look on you.”

Louis smiles at his friend. Leave it to Marcus to make him feel better about his disastrous appearance. Ileana reaches over and carefully runs her fingers through the side of Louis’ hair, gently pressing down a piece that must be sticking up from his head.

“Well, I think you look absolutely wonderful, Louis,” she says, and Louis finds himself flushing at the compliment. “You look as brave and as gorgeous on the outside as you are on the inside. Harry is a lucky man.”

“Thank you, Ileana,” Louis responds, his voice sincere. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me… and for Harry.”

“You both deserve it,” she replies simply.

The conversation is interrupted by the sound of heavy brakes squeaking on metal rails and Louis looks up and sure enough, the train is slowing to a stop just under fifteen meters away. And then there it sits: a golden goliath glittering beneath the lights that line the track. Louis is so excited he wants to run to it, but he freezes before even taking his first step because it suddenly hits him that he has to say goodbye to Marcus for the second time today and the thought makes him incredibly sad. Marcus has done so much for him and he doesn’t know when he’s going to see his friend again.

The two men carrying Louis’ garments hurry ahead as Louis briefly turns his attention away from the train that carries his boy, and back to his friend.

Marcus leans over and kisses Ileana’s lips, saying, “I’ll be back in a minute, ‘Lil. I’m going to walk my client to his train.”

_“To his train.”_

Louis feels another rush of excitement at Marcus’ words because this is all so incredible that it almost doesn’t seem real and Louis wants to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. But then he looks down at the rusty colored bloodstain that soils the top of his tupa skirt and he realizes that pinching himself is the very last thing that he wants to do. The pain he feels over nearly every inch of his body is reminder enough that he’s fully awake.

“Good luck, Louis,” Ileana says, tentatively offering him her hand.

Louis doesn’t know what comes over him, but he takes Ileana’s hand in his own and gives it a quick shake before leaning forward and shyly pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Ileana flushes bright pink, smiling appreciatively at the gesture.

“Don’t go getting any ideas, Romeo,” Marcus teases. “The Dragon Lady here is all mine.” Ileana shakes her head and rolls her eyes in faux exasperation and Louis smiles and nods at her and mouths, “Goodbye.” She mouths “Goodbye,” right back to him, but Louis is certain he’ll see her again. He and Harry will return here after they’ve studied in the next realm. Louis is sure of it.

Marcus takes Louis by the elbow and ushers him carefully to the edge of the track and over the step rail, onto the soft grass that grows lush and thick along the outside perimeter of the rails.

“Walking in the grass will be easier on your feet,” he comments as the two head toward the train. Louis is grateful because his body aches all over and his movements are slow and awkward because of all the injuries he’s sustained. The soft grass is a far better surface on his battered feet than the hard gravel and wooden crossties of the tracks, but still, Louis is limping, his badly injured hip and shin affecting his gait. “You’re no doubt hurting even worse than you were before you fell asleep, Louis. But once you have some pain medicine and Harry rubs some ointment on your wounds, you’ll start to feel considerably better.” Just the thought of Harry touching his body again makes Louis dizzy. His blood is pumping with so much anticipation that he can hardly think straight.

Louis squints to see if he can spot Harry in the rear window of the caboose car, but there is nobody standing there and he can’t help but feel disappointed.

“He’s in the rear passenger car, Louis,” Marcus comments, once again reading Louis’ thoughts. “I called and checked on him and was told that some New Residents took him to the seats to try and calm him down. He doesn’t know you’re the reason the train is returning to the station. He’s going to be in for quite a surprise.”

“My darling,” Louis whispers, overwhelmed. His body aches and his feet are positively screeching with pain, but he can’t help himself, he picks up his pace and starts to walk faster, desperate to get to the train and to his soul mate.

“Don’t go too fast,” Marcus cautions. “You may be a Resident, but your body is in bad shape right now and you need to take it easy tonight.” He looks at Louis and raises an eyebrow. “Give yourself a little time to heal before you start getting too busy with that boy of yours.”

“Marcus!” Louis gasps, his already reddened cheeks flushing darker. “I just… I’m so excited to see him, I don’t know what to do.” Louis’ body is positively thrumming with energy, the exhaustion that was chasing him and dragging him under having fully disappeared and been replaced by anticipation so intense he fears he may hop out of his skin. They’ve almost reached the caboose car and Louis is so desperate to get to Harry that his fingers start to twitch and butterflies begin to flutter madly about in his stomach.

“I told you early on, Louis,” Marcus says, interrupting Louis’ thoughts. “There’s nothing better than the love of a soul mate.”

Louis turns to Marcus then.

“You have a soul mate, Marcus. I just… Why didn’t you ever tell me your wife was Ileana?”

“Louis, if you had known that I was married to opposing counsel, would you have really believed that I would be able to give you the best possible defense, or would you have thought that your case was somehow… compromised?” Louis thinks about the question for a moment, his mind flitting back and forth between Marcus, Ileana, and Harry. Especially Harry. But Louis realizes that he probably wouldn’t have trusted Marcus fully if he had known that the woman that Marcus was fighting over breakfast foods with was Ileana Bachchan.

“I would have doubted you, Marcus,” Louis answers honestly. “I’m so sorry for that, but I probably wouldn’t have trusted you as much as I did.”

“Residents don’t lie,” Marcus says with a grin, and Louis smiles back, because Marcus is referring to _him_ : Louis Tomlinson, Resident of the Afterlife.

Louis looks ahead and the two men carrying his Afterlife wardrobe have already reached the train and are stepping inside the entrance of the car that sits directly in front of the caboose to deliver his items. Once again, Louis is filled with wonder that this is actually happening and he can’t help himself; despite Marcus’ warnings to take it slow, Louis picks up his speed.

They’re only five meters or so from the caboose car and Louis’ skin is tingling all over and he feels short of breath. He’s so excited and so incredibly happy and best of all, he can actually _feel_ Harry’s presence; he knows that his soul mate is near and it just spurs him on to move even faster, the pain in his battered body barely registering as he grabs Marcus’ arm and starts to jog toward the train.

They reach the caboose and Marcus pulls back against Louis, urging him to stop. Louis doesn’t want to stop; he wants to run. But he immediately slows and turns to Marcus.

“We’re almost there, mate!” Louis exclaims. “Come on, let’s go!”

“This is where I leave you, Louis,” Marcus replies and Louis feels his stomach drop. The two men who delivered Louis’ new belongings have now stepped off the train and are quickly walking towards them, both men nodding to Marcus and Louis as they pass by. “You’ll need to go the rest of the way on your own, Louis. Nothing should get in the way of you seeing your boy again, least of all a sappy goodbye to me.”

Louis feels another wave of sadness, because Marcus has been so good to him, and he’s proven to be a true friend to Louis. Louis would be a newborn baby without Marcus and Harry would be moving forward on his own. How can he ever begin to thank Marcus for all that he’s done to help Louis? How can he ever repay him?

“You don’t owe me a thing, Louis,” Marcus says, and Louis cannot get over the way the other man is always reading his thoughts.

“You’d think that you and _I_ were soul mates, Marcus,” Louis comments, trying to make light when he feels so conflicted about saying goodbye to his friend.

“Life mates,” Marcus corrects. “You’re in my circle, Louis.”

Louis’ draws in a surprised breath and he feels a chill run through his body at Marcus’ declaration. His voice is breathy and full of awe when he asks, “Marcus! We’re life mates?” Marcus nods his head and nudges Louis’ shoulder with his own.

“We are, Louis,” Marcus confirms, and Louis’ head is positively spinning at this bit of information. “We did some traveling together over the course of a few lifetimes. Of course, I became a Resident about six lifetimes before you did, but that’s besides the point.”

“But, I – ” Louis starts, but Marcus cuts him off.

“You don’t remember me now, Louis. But don’t fret over it. Our shared connection will come to you in time.”

“Marcus…” Louis mumbles, but he doesn’t really know what else to say.

“Go see your boy, Louis,” Marcus replies, nodding his head in the direction of the train. The door at the front of the train car where Harry sits is open and there is a set of steps that have been folded down from the platform and they extend to the tracks below. Just then, the same porter who checked Harry onto the train and who tried to get Louis to wait for a Resident to help him transition, steps out of the car, iPad in hand. Louis feels a jolt of anxiety, suddenly fearful that he’s not going to be allowed on the train and that he’s going to be told he needs to go to sleep instead. “You’re on the list, Louis,” Marcus assures. “He’s there to help you. They’re waiting for you.”

“Will I see you again?” Louis asks, not wanting this to be a final goodbye.

“Of course,” Marcus answers, his voice confident. “In fact, if you come back to Judgment City after you study, maybe there will be a job for you at my firm. My partner, Jared, certainly had nice things to say about you.”

“Marcus,” Louis starts, having completely forgotten that he met Marcus’ partner earlier in the evening. “You sent Jared out to help me,” he marvels, touched by Marcus’ kindness. Louis realizes right then and there that when he and Harry return to Judgment City, he’ll seek employment with his friend.

“I just didn’t want you falling asleep in the middle of the street,” Marcus answers, grinning at Louis. Quieter, he says, “It’s time, Louis.”

Louis lets out a deep breath, completely overwhelmed because _this is actually it_ ; he’s going to see Harry again and they’re going to spend the rest of forever together.

Marcus smiles at Louis then and holds up his fist for Louis to bump, but Louis ignores the gesture, instead throwing his arms around Marcus and hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” Louis whispers and Marcus gives him an extra squeeze as he hugs him back.

“It was my honor, Louis,” he answers and as they break apart, Louis mimics Marcus’ gesture, holding up his fist and the two immediately bump hands. “I always believed in you, Louis, and I always will. Now, get out of here,” Marcus prompts, and Louis nods his head, his face breaking out into a wide grin and his eyes disappearing into happy crinkles. He turns away from his friend and then he’s off.

He can’t help himself, his bones may ache and his flesh might be bruised, scraped, ripped, and cut open, but Louis forgets about all of this and takes off running, racing across the grass along the side of the track until he’s reached the front of the caboose car and then he slows to a sudden stop.

The train is massive and each car is like a ginormous golden cylinder on wheels, the double-decker cabins towering nearly six meters from the wheels to the roofline and the same distance from side to side, running at least fourteen meters from end to end. The outer walls of the train cars are slightly flattened, with both the roofline and the bottom of each cabin rounded. Both the upper and lower level of the train have massive windows that encompass the majority of their surface, affording passengers an unfettered view of the beautiful Afterlife landscape as the train journeys to the next realm.

Louis nears the rear passenger car, wanting to see if he can spot Harry from outside. Even without seeing him though, Louis can already feel Harry’s presence and it’s incredible to know that he’s so close to the person that is quite literally, his other half. Louis looks up at the row of windows as he starts to walk alongside the massive cabin, and at every window he passes; New Residents are staring down at him, no-doubt wondering the identity of the ravaged man in ratty Intake’s clothing who is wandering in the grass by the side of the tracks.

He approaches the fourth window from the back when he sees him; Louis sees Harry and his heart pounds painfully hard in his chest at the sight. Harry is slumped in his seat, not unlike the way he was earlier sat when Louis saw him in the New Resident tram. Harry’s head is pressed against the window glass and he is staring blankly into the distance, his beautiful face etched in misery. Louis aches at the sight of him and he can’t believe he actually gets to go to him and touch him and kiss him and just… _be with him forever_ , and all the while Harry is sitting in that car unknowing that Louis is on his way to him, unknowing that Louis is the very reason the train has returned to the station in the first place.

He takes a few more steps and then he pauses, craning his neck as he stands beneath Harry’s window like some sort of Afterlife Romeo calling out to his beloved.

 _I’m right here, darling_ , Louis thinks and immediately, Harry jerks his head up and looks out the window as if he actually heard Louis speak to him. At first, Harry’s eyes scan the distance, his position in his seat inside the train nearly a meter above Louis’ head. Harry squints, searching the landscape, but then he slowly looks down and when he spots Louis standing there directly below, his mouth opens wide and he draws back in shock, and Louis can practically hear his surprised gasp through the thick window glass.

For a moment, it’s as if time stands still.

Louis’ eyes lock with Harry’s and Louis feels his entire body just melt into the sight of him. He relaxes his shoulders and tilts his head; his eyes filling with tears as he stares at his soul mate, utterly and hopelessly love sick. Harry blinks heavily as if he’s not believing what he’s seeing, _who_ he is seeing, and he opens and closes his mouth dumbly as if trying to speak. They just continue to stare at each other, the only thing separating them the thick window and the distance from Harry’s seat behind that heavy glass to the ground on which Louis stands. Louis begins to tremble all over, his breaths coming out short and fast, in time to his rapidly thumping heart.

 _“Louis?”_ Louis hears Harry think, just as surely as if Harry had spoken the words aloud in his ear. Louis nods just once in acknowledgment and Harry shakes his head in short, sharp movements and its clear that he’s trying to work out what he’s seeing, unbelieving of his own eyes. Louis can’t help himself; his lips start to turn up into a slow smile that spreads across his face. He tilts his head in the direction of the front of the train car, signaling to Harry that he should meet him there.

Before Louis even knows what’s happening, Harry bolts out of his seat like a shot, Louis immediately taking his cue and then both men are running: Harry on the inside of the train cabin, barreling down it’s center aisle, and Louis on the outside, racing across the grass to the front of the car and the door which stands open and waiting.

Despite his injured body, Louis reaches the car’s entrance first, the adrenaline that’s pumping through him no doubt facilitating his efforts. He gets to the bottom step and he stops, looking up into the passageway just in time to see Harry reach the top of the interior platform. Harry comes to a sudden halt, turning his body to face the open doorway of the train car and looking down at Louis, who is waiting for him, his body buzzing with expectation and longing.

At first, both men just gawk at one another, Harry standing motionless, save for his chest, which is rapidly rising and falling like Louis’ own. The porter that is standing on the ground at the base of the little set of stairs takes several steps back and Louis wonders if he’s been clued in to the reunion that’s about to take place because he doesn’t seem to want to intrude on Louis’ personal space or invade either man’s privacy. It’s a pleasant counter to when he greeted Louis earlier inside the station with the sole intention of finding someone to help Louis transition back to Earth.

Harry’s eyes are red-rimmed and swollen from crying, his nose is bright pink, and his loose curls hang a bit limp, as if he’s recently engaged in strenuous activity, and Louis knows it’s because Harry worked himself up into a sweat earlier when he was screaming to be let off the train to go to Louis. His tupa is disheveled and his belt is hanging sloppily at an angle around his waist.

He’s the most beautiful creature Louis has ever seen.

Louis takes a step forward, edging closer to the stairs, but he’s still stood a meter or so away and Harry is just standing there, shell-shocked and immobile. He looks terrified, as if he’s convinced that if he takes a step toward Louis, Louis will disappear or be sent away from him.

Louis is not going anywhere.

Slowly, Louis extends his arm, reaching toward Harry, palm up and facing skyward with fingers outstretched. Harry inches closer to the top step, but he still doesn’t take a step down, he just scans Louis from top to bottom, accessing his appearance and seemingly trying to make certain that his own eyes aren’t deceiving him.

“Hello darling,” Louis finally manages, his voice barely above a whisper, and Harry makes a breathy little gasping sound and descends the first step.

“Louis?” he replies softly, and tears immediately begin to spill out of his eyes and roll down his cheeks. Louis has no idea why Harry isn’t just barreling into him, but then he remembers the state of his appearance. Louis hasn’t seen a mirror, but he knows he must look a filthy mess, but it’s not so much his soiled tupa that he’s certain is causing Harry to pause, it’s –

“You’re hurt,” Harry says, his voice breaking, and he sounds so scared. Louis knows that Harry is moving carefully because he’s afraid Louis is some kind of battered, damaged figment of his imagination that is going to positively shatter and disintegrate into dust if he gets too close. He can actually read a variation of those thoughts spinning through Harry’s mind. Worst of all, Harry doesn’t trust his own eyes that Louis is real.

Louis suddenly realizes that he has no idea what Harry’s been through. He knows that Harry’s heart was breaking just like his own when they were first separated, and he remembers what Ed told him about the way that Harry collapsed in the lift car, but beyond what he’s witnessed since he arrived at the station and when he saw Harry frantically pounding on the rear window of the caboose car as the train was disappearing down the tracks, Louis is completely clueless as to the kind of torment Harry endured while he thought Louis was being sent back to Earth. The very fact that a dazed and battered Louis earlier showed up at the station outside of Harry’s window, only to rile him up and then disappear again, must have left Harry skittish and unsure. The entire experience must have been unbelievably traumatic and Louis feels a sick pang in his gut for having caused Harry so much heartache.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Louis croaks, as the tears begin to rapidly fall down his own cheeks, stinging his already sensitive skin.

“Louis!” Harry barks, the name coming out hoarse and pained. He bounds off the stairs then and crashes into Louis, the force of his enthusiasm nearly knocking Louis over and he stumbles backwards three or four steps, the sudden jolt causing pain to pierce through Louis’ entire left leg and hip. But Louis doesn’t mind; he barely even registers the hurt at all because Harry is suddenly sweeping him up into his arms and pulling him into such a fierce embrace that Louis thinks his bones may break. Louis wraps his arms just as tightly around Harry in return.

Since he first laid eyes on Harry, Louis has many times thought he was experiencing the greatest feeling he’d ever known. Touching him, holding him, kissing him; every moment with Harry has been like a miracle and one that Louis always wrongfully assumed could never be topped. But this: this feeling of being safely wrapped in the arms of his beloved when they both thought everything was lost forever, _and_ having the knowledge that they now have an endless and open future together… Well, this very moment is by far, the greatest experience of Louis’ entire existence.

“What are you doing here, Louis? What’s happening?” Harry breathily questions and then he doesn’t even give Louis a chance to answer before he’s peppering kisses on the top of Louis’ head and pressing them against Louis’ left cheek. He pulls back then and looks at him, drawing up his hand, the backs of his fingers hovering over Louis’ bruised right cheek, but he does not touch. Instead, he makes a little crying noise in disbelief at the injuries Louis has sustained. “You’re hurt so badly,” he whispers, and then he raises his hand higher, his fingertips ghosting over the gash at the side of Louis’ temple where he hit his head when he fell against the railroad tie, and Louis instinctively leans in to the touch. “Who hurt you?” Harry asks, his voice shaking with both anger and fear. Louis suddenly realizes that Harry was much too far down the tracks to have witnessed his fall earlier, and given the state of Louis’ swollen cheek and bruised and wounded temple, Harry probably thinks that someone had physically assaulted him.

“Nobody hurt me, darling,” Louis assures. “It was just a difficult journey to get here, is all.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry responds, his voice distraught and Louis immediately realizes that despite the fact that he’s holding Louis in his arms; Harry still doesn’t realize that their situation has dramatically changed. Louis can feel the conflicting emotion emanating off Harry’s body, can read the tension Harry exudes as confused thoughts whirl inside his head, and it’s almost as if those thoughts are blocking _Louis’_ thoughts on why he’s really here, breaking the connection they have as soul mates and preventing Louis’ happiness from getting through. Louis knows that Harry has no idea that Louis’ decision has been reversed and Louis needs to make that right. He needs to appease Harry’s worried mind before he suffers any more heartache. He opens his mouth to do just that, but before the words even leave his lips, Harry again speaks, his eyes desperately searching Louis’ own when he asks, “How did you get here, Louis? What were you doing to cause you to get so terribly hurt?”

Louis swallows thickly, deciding to put it in the simplest and most honest terms.

“I was fighting for us, darling.”

Harry sobs loudly and once again pulls Louis in close, burrowing his face into Louis’ neck, his tears and curls tickling Louis’ skin.

It’s absolute bliss.

“I’m so confused,” Harry says as he pulls back and once again looks Louis in the eyes. He moves his hands to Louis’ shoulders, gripping on to them like some kind of anchor that will keep Louis from drifting away. “I don’t understand why you aren’t sleeping right now, Louis. They told us during Orientation that most Intakes transition within an hour or two after their verdicts. How are you even here? How are you still awake?”

Harry lets go of Louis’ shoulders, sliding his hands gently down Louis’ arms to take his hands into his own, but when Louis winces in pain as he does so, Harry makes his own painful cry, distressed at having hurt his soul mate. The tops of Louis’ hands are covered in scratches and little cuts from the branches of the lilac bushes, and when Harry carefully flips them over the palms and fingertips are scraped and gashed from when Louis fell onto the gravel. “Oh god, Louis. What’s happened to you?”

“I wanted to see you again before I left this realm, Harry. It’s a long story, but I just really wanted to give you one last kiss and – ”

“You’re here to kiss me and then to leave?” Harry interrupts, his voice utterly panicked and his body going rigid with tension.

“Shhh,” Louis soothes, trying to ease Harry’s worried mind. “That was the original plan, yeah,” Louis says and then he starts to really feel it: a bubbling happiness that fizzles beneath his skin and emanates from the smile slowly spreading across his face. Harry stares at him, his brow furrowed in confusion, his lips pursed as he tries to wrap his brain around what is happening. Louis understands that Harry to some degree is starting to get ‘it’ and that a tiny part of him is reading that Louis is here to stay, but he also knows that Harry has experienced so much heartache and upset over the past few hours that he can’t quite grasp that all of this is real. “My plan was to find you and to kiss you, Harry. But then, my plans changed.”

Harry draws in a shuddering breath and Louis grins wider because this entire journey has been an endless series of painful cries, shocked gasps, and stilted intakes of air. It’s been every beautiful, sappy cliché in every romance novel and love song ever written and Louis wouldn’t change a thing, because all of those dramatic little outbursts have brought him to this moment.

“Your plans have changed?” Harry questions and Louis can feel the shift in Harry’s demeanor, is certain that Harry is suddenly hopeful. Cautious? Yes. But Harry also most assuredly has hope.

Louis takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm the nerves that are zipping through him over what he’s about to say. The words are so powerful and sacred that he’s almost afraid to speak them out loud. If he’s being honest with himself, Louis still feels the tiniest shred of fear that this is all some cruel trick of the universe and that someone is going to show up and haul him off to The Regency Hotel where he’ll immediately be forced to go to sleep. But then he thinks of the way Marcus and Ileana looked at him when they told him that he was moving forward with Harry and he knows that they would never lie to him; it’s an absolute impossibility. _This is real_ , Louis thinks and Harry’s eyes widen in response to the silent proclamation.

“They reversed my verdict, Harry. I’m going with you,” he quietly says, and then he reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind Harry’s ear. He keeps his hand there, his fingertips gently resting against Harry’s scalp and his thumb brushing across Harry’s cheek. Harry’s breathing picks up and his tears start to fall faster as he tries to blink them away.

“What?” Harry croaks, obviously still too frightened and traumatized to fully accept Louis’ words. “Sam told me your verdict was final, Louis.” He shakes his head as if trying to clear his thoughts and then quietly, unsure he whispers, “Please tell me this isn’t a joke.” It’s obvious from his tone that Harry knows Louis wouldn’t joke about something so serious, but he’s nervous, just like Louis was when Marcus first told him the news.

“Residents don’t lie, Harry,” Louis says, repeating Marcus’ words. “And even if we did, I wouldn’t lie to you in a million years. It’s true, darling. I’m going with you. I promise.”

“You’re a Resident?” Harry asks on a breath, and then he drops his forehead against Louis’, the gesture sending a dull throb through Louis’ battered temple, but Louis doesn’t protest; he’s so unbelievably happy that he thinks he’s going to burst.

“Say it again,” Harry pleads against Louis’ lips, the plush fullness of Harry’s mouth dancing over Louis’ own and causing little sparks of pleasure to race across Louis’ skin.

“I’m a Res – ”

Harry makes a little gasping cry and cuts Louis off, his lips abruptly pushing into Louis’ with the most perfect kiss that Louis Tomlinson has ever experienced. The kiss starts out slow and sweet and Louis feels it in every molecule of his body. The way their lips move back and forth feels like a rolling tide and it builds as their happiness starts to overtake them both. Harry cups his hands on either side of Louis’ skull, his thumbs barely touching the skin beneath Louis’ earlobes and Louis knows that Harry is being careful to not hurt him further. But getting hurt is the very last thing on Louis’ mind and he pushes forward, sliding one hand around the back of Harry’s neck and the other he tangles in his hair as he opens and closes his mouth in a series of warm, wet presses that makes his heart positively ache with the joy he feels.

“You’re coming with me!” Harry cries as he pulls back, laughter bubbling in his voice. But Louis is only able to grin and nod, his response once again going unfinished because Harry’s lips are crashing against his own again and they feel so plump and soft that Louis makes a little sobbing noise when he realizes that he gets to feel their delicious velvet texture against his own mouth for the rest of time.

The kiss starts to build and Harry grips Louis tighter, the gentle lapping of their lips giving way to something more desperate as they huff warm breaths of air between them, both men losing themselves in the deep pull of their longing, the utter relief bouncing in the air around them.  

“I am, darling. I’m coming with you,” Louis mumbles and he can feel Harry’s smile against his lips and then Harry is dropping his hands from Louis’ head and sliding them beneath his arms. He picks Louis up off the ground then, twirling him around in a slow circle as they kiss like they have all of the time in the world, which they in fact, do.

“I’m never letting you go… ever,” Harry cries as he continues to spin Louis and Louis starts laughing and crying at the same time and as his eyes lock with Harry’s. The other man is smiling so wide that Louis is almost blinded by it, and despite the tears that continue to stream down both their faces, the two erupt into ridiculous fits of giggles that are music to Louis’ ears. Harry carefully sets Louis back down then and when his injured feet touch the grass, Louis makes a tiny grunting sound in reaction to the pain and Harry promises, “I’m going to take care of you, sweetheart. I’m so sorry that you’re hurting, but I’m going to help you. You’re coming with me and I’m going to take care of you, forever.”

“Forever,” Louis repeats, and then they fall into another kiss and this one is even more passionate and intense than the last. Harry’s hands slide down Louis’ back, resting just above his bum and then he pulls Louis’ body forward so that their pelvises are flush, the sensation utterly intoxicating and Louis can’t believe he never has to give this feeling up.

“Never,” Harry whispers, now openly reading Louis’ thoughts, the cloud of fear and doubt having officially been obliterated and their connection fully reestablished. Harry licks into Louis’ mouth, the kiss sticky and slow and deliciously sweet and when his tongue glides against Louis’ own, Louis just moans, it feels so good. Their mouths repeatedly smack together and Louis thinks to himself that his body may be so sore that he can barely move, but he’s going to be making love to his soul mate before this night is over. “We’ve got time, Louis,” Harry happily pants against his lips and Louis starts grinning again because they do; they’ve got a literal eternity ahead of them.

Just then, there is the sound of a throat being cleared near the train car and Louis suddenly remembers where they are and he pulls back from Harry, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment when he realizes that the porter and no doubt everyone seated in the cabin behind them just watched he and Harry heatedly snog. Harry doesn’t seem to care though, and he certainly doesn’t want to break the kiss because he just dives back in, pressing his lips against Louis’ even harder. Louis just melts into it, deciding he doesn’t care who sees them either, because this kiss is the miracle they both have been hoping for and Louis doesn’t want it to ever end.

“It won’t ever end, Louis,” Harry says and he rubs his nose against Louis’ and they both start their little laugh and cry combination all over again.

“Gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we do have a schedule to keep,” the porter says and this time they finally break the kiss, but not before Harry wraps his arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in against his own body like he’s staking claim. They turn back toward the porter then, who holds his iPad in his hand, looking up from the screen to add, “We’re over an hour behind schedule and I need to get our new passenger checked in.” Harry squeezes Louis’ ribs.

“You’re the new passenger, Louis,” Harry declares, stating the obvious. Louis turns his body, dropping his head against Harry’s shoulder and nuzzling in to him. Harry uses his free arm to pull Louis even closer and the two head towards the entrance of the train, positively clinging to one another as they go. The pain that was overshadowed by Louis’ joy at seeing Harry is now creeping back in and Louis can’t control the limp as he shuffles forward. “I’m going to take care of you,” Harry reiterates.

“I’ll be better soon, Haz,” Louis says as he leans against Harry for support. “Marcus told me that Resident bodies heal quickly.”

“And you’re a Resident,” Harry enthuses.

“So I’ve been told,” Louis says on a laugh.

They reach the porter, who is scrolling his finger over his iPad screen. He looks up at Louis and smiles kindly but Louis feels a sudden burst of panic, his body going rigid with fear because what if he’s reading an Alert that declares the Rogue Intake should be tricked into thinking he’s advancing? What if this isn’t real and Louis is actually going to be sent back to Earth?

“I would never let that happen, Louis,” Harry comforts and he presses a soft kiss to Louis’ hairline, just behind his wounded temple. “You’re coming with me,” he adds, and this time, Louis detects the very slightest hint of worry in Harry’s voice.

This day has been entirely too traumatic for both of them.

The porter looks back and forth between them and smiles pleasantly before returning his attention to his tablet computer. He taps the screen and then his eyes meet Louis’.

“Name?” he asks, catching Louis off-guard with the question because it’s so surreal that this is actually happening. Louis opens his mouth to speak but what comes out is a little choking sound because he’s so nervous. He coughs to clear his throat and his reward is a wretched reminder of the Resident coffee that he drank earlier, a misty residue of the pungent liquid lingering on his tongue. He swallows it down.

“I just need your name, sir,” the porter says. But he must read Louis’ anxiety because he leans forward a bit, his voice lower when he adds, “It’s just a formality, really. I know exactly who you are, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis feels relief rush through him and Harry lets out a happy little cry, his body relaxing a bit where he holds onto Louis.

“Louis Tomlinson,” Louis answers, his voice clear and strong.

“Full name?” the porter presses and Louis throws back his head and huffs a laugh because _bloody hell!_

“Louis _William_ Tomlinson,” Louis clarifies and the porter just smiles and looks down at his tablet. He slides his finger downward and then taps its surface before placing his thumb and index finger on the screen and spreading them out, enlarging whatever he’s looking at. He stares at the screen for a minute and Louis is quite certain the man is pausing for dramatic effect, but then he slowly turns the iPad around so that its surface faces Louis and Harry and they both let out audible sounds of relief because there, in bold black text and Copperplate font is Louis’ own name, beside which is a row of the odd symbols and characters that Residents read.

Soon enough, Louis will be able to read and understand those symbols, too.

“Congratulations, Mr. Tomlinson,” the porter says. “You’re moving on to the next realm.”

Louis turns fully to face Harry then and Harry immediately pulls him into another fierce embrace, the joy and utter relief they both feel tangible in the air.

“Your new tupas and other belongings have already been loaded onto the train, but I’m afraid the sleeper cabins are all full,” the porter says, and Louis has the sense that he’s teasing him and Harry because when he looks at Louis, he slyly winks.

“He’s staying with me in mine!” Harry interjects. He hugs Louis tightly against his body and whispers in his ear, “It’s _our_ cabin, Louis. Yours and mine together.” Louis grins and bites his lip and Harry immediately leans in and kisses him again, the two of them immediately forgetting that the porter is standing right next to them as they give in to it fully.

“Ah, yes,” the porter agrees. “Soul mates.” He lets out a proud little chuckle. “I’ve already taken the liberty of having your belongings placed in Mr. Styles’ cabin, Mr. Tomlinson. I didn’t think either of you would mind.”

“Louis,” Louis corrects and he extends his hand to the man. “Call me, Louis.”

“Well… thank you, sir – I mean, Louis,” the porter replies and he looks a bit taken aback, not unlike the same way Donald did when Louis announced that he wanted to be on a first name basis with him.

 _Donald_.

Louis has so many people to thank for bringing him to this moment and he intends on doing just that when he figures out how communication works in the next realm.

“My name is Michael,” the porter replies, interrupting Louis’ thoughts. “I’ll be taking care of you for the next five days. But we really need to get on board so this train can get moving.” With that, Michael stands to the side so that Louis and Harry might enter the car. The steps that lead up to the cabin and through the main entrance are wide enough for Louis and Harry to comfortably enter together, and as they take the first step Louis turns to Harry and once again his tears start to fall because _this is really happening_.

“I can’t believe it either, Lou,” Harry says. He holds onto Louis carefully, supporting his weight and helping him to climb each step, Louis’ sore legs and wrecked feet protesting with every one. “You can have a hot shower and get into some fresh clothes when we get inside, sweetheart. I bet you’ll start to feel better then.”

Louis can’t help but agree, the thought of getting out of his dirty, damp tupa and into a steaming shower is so appealing that his eyes momentarily fall shut at the prospect. Louis’ stomach growls loudly and he realizes he had all but forgotten how hungry he was earlier when he was running on the road out of the city, the exhaustion overpowering his urge to eat. But now, Louis is simply ravenous.

“We’ll get you fed too, Lou,” Harry says with a grin. “There’s a welcome buffet at midnight in the dining car, but I’m sure we can scrounge something up before then.”

“I’m really here,” Louis marvels as they take the step directly below the top platform, suddenly overwhelmed that he’s now entering the train he watched barrel off into the distance less than an hour previous.

“You really are,” Harry quietly answers, also blatantly overcome by the moment.

Louis knows that he and Harry are holding up the whole train, but when Harry turns and pulls Louis into a tearful kiss, he doesn’t resist. Instead, he just relaxes into it, Harry’s tears dripping onto his cheeks as he tilts Louis’ head back to kiss him properly. They stand there on the step of the passageway that leads into the car and snog for a solid minute before they’re once again interrupted by the sound of Michael clearing his throat behind them.

“You know, you two can kiss all you like once this train gets moving,” he comments, and the two men pull apart then, Louis looking over his shoulder to happily apologize, “Sorry, mate. We’re just really glad the way things worked out.”

“I’m genuinely pleased for both of you,” Michael responds. His tone is light and teasing when he adds, “I just need to… you know… maybe bring up the steps and all that so we can actually _leave_ the station yard.”

“Message received,” Harry grins, and he helps Louis onto the top step of the platform and then they finally enter the car.

Louis does not expect what happens next.

Louis and Harry step around the corner of the little entranceway and into the main cabin and as they do, the entire carload of New Residents, porters, and other train workers erupt into loud and boisterous applause. Louis’ mouth falls open in shock and Harry just holds on to him tighter, his arm wrapped possessively around Louis’ waist as he proudly guides him through the crowd.

Louis only recognizes a few of the New Residents, and they’re faces he’s only seen in passing at The Regency or at the Review Center. But still, every person they pass feels the need to hug Louis and then Harry, offering congratulations to the couple as they make their way towards the back of the train car and to the stairwell that will take them up to Harry’s sleeper car – up to _their_ sleeper car.

Both Louis and Harry are so happy that they can’t stop crying and Louis hears a dozen times that he’s a legend who is going to go down in the Afterlife history books. It seems like everyone in the car, including the many workers who have long been citizens of the Afterlife, want to shake hands with _The Rogue_.

“I can’t believe you managed to reverse your fate, love,” says a female porter as she pats Louis’ hand. Harry looks so proud that Louis thinks he may burst.

“Soul mates,” a woman dressed in a chef’s uniform swoons as she squeezes Louis’ shoulder and then pinches Harry’s cheek. “If there is anything stronger than a Review Panel, it’s the love of a soul mate.”

“He’s the best person I’ll ever know,” Harry boasts as they continue forward.

Louis barely notices the posh interior of the massive cabin; he’s too focused on holding on to Harry, who grips him equally tight, and too overwhelmed by all of the strangers offering him praise. It’s incredible, really, and Louis has never felt so accepted and so welcomed anywhere he’s ever been in the whole of his existence.

They’re just within a few meters of the rear of the car and as they approach, Louis feels the vibrations as the train engine roars and he hears the whistle blow and then suddenly, the train is moving, pulling slowly out of the station yard and towards the future. Countless hands are patting Louis on the shoulders and endless praise is being showered upon him, yet all of that is meaningless compared to the arm that is tightly secured around his waist. Louis turns then and collapses into Harry’s chest, suddenly completely overtaken with emotion. Harry wraps his arms around him, pulling him close and they both stand there, holding on to each other for all they are worth, their bodies wracked with tears of relief because Harry is moving forward and by some kind of miracle, Louis is going with him. It’s all so unreal and wonderful and Louis realizes in that moment that he will never get over the gratitude he feels for all of those who have helped him along the way. His future was sealed, but then that seal was broken and his fate was re-cast and now he gets to spend forever with his soul mate. How is he so lucky? How did this even happen?

“Because you fought for us,” Harry whispers, carefully kissing Louis’ bruised cheek. “You fought for us, Louis and now you’re here and I’m so thankful.”

Louis pulls back then, looking at his soul mate.

“I can’t believe this is real,” he replies. Harry bites his bottom lip and then smiles so wide that his dimple is like a crater in his cheek and Louis gently presses his thumb into the deep well.

“This is real, Louis. I don’t know how you did it, but it’s real.”

“Well, I for one am so incredibly proud of both of you,” comes a female voice that Louis immediately recognizes. He turns away from Harry, still clutching on to him, but giving his attention to the sweet older woman who has spoken to him.

“Margaret!” Louis exclaims, a rush of warmth passing through him at the sight of his friend. His mind flashes on the previous evening when he returned from Harry’s hotel room completely broken and the way that Margaret hugged him and assured him things would be all right. Her gentle embrace was reminiscent of those given to Louis by his own mum and she brought him so much comfort. He lets go of Harry just long enough to pull her into a hug, Harry’s hand nonetheless never leaving his waist.

“I was so heartbroken to hear of your verdict, Louis,” Margaret comments. “Then, when we all saw you chasing the train down the tracks… Well, I have never been so proud of another human being in all of my existence and I just felt certain you deserved to move forward. I’m so happy that it all worked out for you. You deserve to be here with Harry.”

Louis allows himself to be held in her warm embrace for a moment, his eyes falling heavily shut as his mind once again returns to his mum. She’d be so proud of him and the way that he fought for what was his and what was right. He pulls away then, kissing Margaret’s cheek.

“Thank you so much, love,” Louis coos, his voice soft. “I’m so happy to see you, Margaret. Thank you for believing in me.”

“I knew you had it in you,” comes a male voice, just as familiar to Louis as is Margaret’s. Louis feels a large hand pat his back and he turns to see Peter, who is smiling at him warmly. Peter’s free hand rests on Harry’s shoulder and Harry sort of tilts his head onto it in what Louis recognizes to be a gesture of appreciation. “I’m so thrilled for you and Harry,” Peter says, as Louis throws his arms around him and the two men hug. When Louis pulls away, Harry immediately pulls him back into his side, wrapping one arm behind Louis’ back, with the other around the front of his waist and Louis mimics the gesture, the two standing there facing Peter and Margaret, wrapped in a tight little side hug, neither of them willing to let go of the other for even a second. Peter looks back and forth between them before he lets out a soft chuckle.

“You know, Louis, I’m so pleased you get to spend eternity with your soul mate.” Harry immediately curls into Louis at the words and although he is taller and generally bigger than Louis is, he nonetheless seems smaller as he rests his head on Louis’ shoulder. Peter tilts his head in Harry’s direction and his voice is only partially teasing when he says, “I thought I was going to spend _my_ eternity comforting this one, here.” Louis can practically feel Harry’s cheeks flush at the comment and Harry lets go of Louis just long enough to wrap Peter in a quick, tight hug.

“Peter helped me after I saw you out on the platform and then on the tracks, Louis,” Harry comments. “I was a bit of a mess and he let me cry on his shoulder.”

“It was my privilege,” Peter says with a smile. “I’m just happy that you two were reunited. The universe got it right in reversing your decision.”

“Thank you, Peter,” Louis says, grateful that someone afforded Harry a measure of comfort during their horrible ordeal. Then, as Harry returns to Louis’ side, once again clinging to him like some sort of sexy, overgrown koala, it strikes Louis that someone from their little group is missing.

“Wait a minute, where is Ro –” he starts, but before he’s even completed his sentence, Margaret is shaking her sadly and Louis knows that their friend failed his Review.

“He was sent back to Earth, Louis,” Peter confirms, his tone calm and quiet. Louis lets out a gasp and starts to protest, but Peter immediately places his hand on Louis’ shoulder to reassure him. “I saw him after his verdict was read. He was actually excited to go back to Earth. He told me he was going to live his next life to the fullest, that he was going to take chances. He said he was going to have the _best_ life and that he couldn’t wait for it to get started.”

“I just…” Louis starts, but he isn’t even able to finish his thought because their friend was returned to Earth and that could have just as easily been Louis’ fate. The very idea that Louis almost lost everything is terrifying. He turns to Harry, collapsing against his chest and Harry pulls him into his arms, kissing the top of Louis’ head and gently rubbing his back.

“Your fate was to be here with me, Louis. We’re soul mates,” Harry comforts, his words spoken quietly, reverently in Louis’ ear. “You never should have failed your Review in the first place, sweetheart. The universe got it wrong, but then they corrected their mistake and I’m so happy.”

“I know,” Louis answers, his voice sad. “It’s just that he was such a nice man and Harry – ” Louis cuts himself off with a soft cry. Harry holds on tighter, gently rocking Louis from side to side to calm him. Louis draws in a deep breath, forcing out the next words. “I was so close to leaving you.”

“But you didn’t,” Harry soothes. “You’re exactly where you need to be; you’re right here with me, where you belong.”

******

The wife can’t stop crying. She’s been this way for over an hour now and she doesn’t think her tears will abate anytime soon. Her bed is adjusted so that she’s sitting mostly upright, which she finds significantly more comfortable than laying completely supine, the stitches that seal the fresh incision that runs across her lower abdomen tugging painfully at the stretch. Her husband sits carefully on the side of her mattress, facing her, and he’s crying too.

The wife is utterly exhausted. Her body has been through significant trauma and she knows it will be a few days before she starts to get any of her strength back. She didn’t end up needing a blood transfusion, but she did suffer a great deal of blood loss and she’s very weak. She’s only just starting to really come down from the heavy medication and despite the blessed morphine drip that is attached to her IV; she’s still in a great deal of pain. But most of all, her body seems almost foreign; her empty, hollow belly a blaring contrast to the life she carried inside of her womb for all of those months.

The visitors have all left for the evening and Peggy and Rose have also ducked out of the room so that the wife and the husband could have a bit of privacy after such a long and traumatic day. The room is eerily quiet, like the calm after the storm, the sound of the wife and her husband’s sniffles the only noise to be heard.

They’re each a blubbering mess.

But really, who could blame them?

It’s been a very intense week and despite to all of the loss that occurred the previous Saturday, this evening was starting to look like it would manage to _surpass_ that horrible day in terms of heartache.

But then, miraculously, it didn’t.

“I can’t believe he’s real,” the wife marvels, finally breaking the silence as tears continue to slowly roll down her cheeks. Her husband reaches over and gently brushes them away with his thumb before wiping at his own watery eyes. She looks down at the chubby little bundle she holds in her arms, a child delivered within minutes of the discovery that her placenta had ruptured, a newborn who entered the world screaming his tiny little lungs out, his fingers stretching and then closing into tight fists of protest at being pulled from the warmth and comfort of the dark tunnel and through the light. Now, he lies contentedly within his mother’s arms, swaddled tightly in warm blankets, completely relaxed and in deep slumber.

He’s had quite a journey.

A soul’s transition from death to life is always more taxing on a body that the transition from life to death and while he was perfectly content to leave the Afterlife, this particular soul didn’t especially enjoy the trip. Not that he remembers any of it, or ever will for that matter. He’s a completely new person: a tabula rasa with a future full of endless possibilities. But for now, he is ruled by only two instincts: the need for food and the desire to sleep. Right now he’s giving in to the latter.

“He’s absolutely perfect, Jess,” the husband answers. He lightly grazes his index finger across the infant’s closed fist and the child immediately flexes his fingers, instinctively latching on to it. “He’s so strong!” the husband quietly laughs as those tiny digits wrap around his own. The husband leans carefully forward and kisses the wife’s cheek. “Just like his mum.”

“Nah,” she answers humbly. “All I did was pass out in a pool of blood. I didn’t even have to push him out.”

“Jessica!” the husband rightfully protests. “You endured hours of a brutal labor and contractions, not to mention weeks of bed rest, and nearly nine months of an arduous pregnancy. You’re more than just strong, you’re… Well, you’re just everything, love.”

The wife feels her body flush with pride at her husband’s comments. She _is_ strong. She’s not going to think anything less of herself and she’s going to teach her son to do the same. She’s glad she has her husband to remind her of this. She leans over and presses a soft kiss to her son’s forehead and just for a second, the baby opens his eyes and then immediately drops them heavily closed.

“He’s a sleepy little bean,” the husband comments and the wife grins happily in agreement. “When I walked your mum out, I had her promise me that the first thing she’ll do when she and your father get to ours is make arrangements to have cupcakes delivered to Dr. Cooper’s offices.” The wife can’t help but let out a little laugh, the action causing her incision to pull taut and she winces at the pain. “My poor brave girl,” the husband says, sliding his free hand over hers, their fingers tangling together over the bottom of the baby blanket. “I think I’m also going to enroll him in the Wine of the Month Club and get him some restaurant gift certificates. Do you think that’s too much?”

“Maybe just a bit,” the wife agrees, winking at her husband. Her voice goes quiet then and she can’t help but feel guilty for her previous feelings over the doctor who saved her and her child’s lives. “I can’t believe how much I disliked that man. Up until a few hours ago I thought he was positively wretched, but then he turned out to be simply wonderful. Our son is perfect and healthy and I’ll be feeling better soon, and it’s all thanks to Dr. Cooper.”

The wife is suddenly startled by the loud sob of her husband. He ducks his head, his shoulders shaking as he starts to cry hard. She squeezes his hand tightly, saying, “Oh, love. I’m so sorry...” But she’s unable to finish her thought because once again, her own tears have started and they’re falling nearly as quickly as his.

“I thought I was going to lose you, Jess,” the husband cries, reaching over to the table that sits by the wife’s bed and grabbing several tissues. He wipes his eyes and draws in a shuddering breath, clearly trying to get control of his emotions and the wife’s heart could just break for him, he looks so sad, but also so relieved. “I thought I had lost both of you. I couldn’t have lived without you, Jess. Or the baby!”

The wife lets go of her husband’s hand, their infant son still contentedly sleeping in her arms and completely unknowing of the drama surrounding his birth. She reaches up and strokes her husband’s cheek. He finally begins to calm down, although no one could blame him for being so emotionally drained and distraught after all that he’s been through. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “This is such a joyous time and I’m sorry to be acting like this.”

“Oh, John,” the wife answers, her voice breaking. “Don’t apologize, love. You’ve suffered such great loss this past week, I don’t…” She takes in a deep breath, trying to make sense of so much tragedy befalling in the course of one day. It doesn’t make sense and it never will. “First you found out about Louis,” she starts and the husband looks up at her, a single, fat tear rolling down his face.

“I’m really going to miss him,” the husband answers. “Didn’t get to see him a lot since we moved here, but he was a great friend to me. He was so young! He was so much fun and he treated everyone so kindly, Jess.”

“I know, love,” the wife agrees. “But you didn’t even have time to process the news about Louis before you got word on your uncle. Honestly, John, I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep yourself together at all, much less make all those back and forth trips to Falmouth to take care of his estate and plan his funeral. You’re a hero is what you are.”

“He was a good man,” the husband quietly answers. “He was the only family I had after mum died. I wish we’d gotten down to Falmouth to visit him more often.”

“Love, you went to see your uncle every couple of months, and he came here too. You talked to him on the phone every single Sunday for as long as I’ve known you. He _knew_ you loved him,” she emphasizes. “In fact, when he visited over New Year’s he told me how special your relationship was to him and how grateful he was to have you as his family. Don’t ever doubt how much you mattered to him, or that he knew how much you cared.”

The husband is about to respond, but before he can speak, the baby stirs. The infant opens his mouth wide in a silent yawn and then smacks his lips back together. He seems utterly content and just this little gesture from their newborn makes the wife feel so much better and from the dreamy look on her husband’s face as he looks down at the child, she knows he feels the same.

“I wish he could have seen the baby,” the husband says, and the wife can tell that he’s starting to relax and she is too. It’s been such a terrible week and they’ve had so much to process, but the wife and the husband have decided that for now, they are going to focus on their child and the happiness his long-awaited arrival brings. They’re always going to miss their friend and John’s uncle; both men were taken far too young and far too soon. But for now, their little family is all that matters.

“I was thinking,” the wife says, remembering something that had occurred to her earlier when she was speaking to the nurses. “My father has seven grandchildren and no less than four of them bear some form of his name. Why don’t we call him after your uncle instead?” The husband’s eyes soften and his mouth turns up in a sweet smile of surprise.

“Really, Jess? But we’d planned on naming him after your father all along.”

“Honestly, John. I don’t know why we didn’t think to call him after your uncle from the start. My father will understand and besides, with your first name and your uncle’s middle name, we can call the baby ‘J.R.’ for short. Isn’t that cute?”

“J.R.,” the husband quietly repeats, sounding out the nickname and getting a feel for it. “I really like that, Jess. He looks like a little J.R., I think.”

Ever so carefully, the wife raises the baby and passes him over to her husband.

“Go ahead, love. Give him his name,” the wife says and the husband makes a little choking crying sound, but he manages to hold back his tears. The wife isn’t nearly as successful, and her eyes once again begin to water.

The husband spreads his large hand behind the infant’s back, using the other hand to cradle his son’s head in his palm. He shifts his body, just enough so that the wife can see them both properly.

And then the husband names their son.

“Welcome to the world, Jonathan Rowan Smith,” the husband starts. He looks at the wife and grins and she smiles back at him, her heart swelling with all of the love and happiness she feels. “I’m your dad, and this here is your mum,” he says, tilting his head toward the wife. “We’re very glad to finally meet you, little man. You’re going to have the _best_ life.”

******

Louis stands at the sink in the en suite of his and Harry’s sleeper car, furiously brushing his teeth. After he rinses and spits for what must be the tenth time, he finally considers the job complete and he places his new toothbrush in the mounted holder on the wall above the sink, immediately pulling the mouthwash off the shelf. He gargles with the minty liquid, swishing it around the inside of his mouth until he can no longer detect the slightest hint of Resident coffee and then he spits, rinsing out the sink after.

“I still can’t believe you drank Resident coffee,” Harry marvels.

Louis has only just begun to tell Harry about his journey. He hasn’t even showered yet, but when they walked into their private sleeping chambers Louis immediately made a beeline for their en suite and started brushing his teeth. Harry stood by all the while watching him with a dopey smile on his face, Louis repeatedly glancing at Harry’s reflection in the mirror and giving him that same lovesick smile in return.

“It was worth it, Haz,” Louis answers honestly. “I would drink an entire ocean of that swill just to have a few minutes with you and now we get to have eternity together.”

“This feels like a dream, Lou,” Harry answers. He comes up behind Louis then, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and draping his chest over Louis’ back, his chin resting over Louis’ shoulder. “I don’t think I’m ever going to let you out of my sight again.” Louis slides his scraped up hands over Harry’s, the two staring at their reflection in the mirror and even though they both look a bit worse for the wear from all of the trauma they’ve endured, Louis thinks they make a gorgeous couple. When Harry turns his face to press a series of ticklish kisses on Louis neck, causing Louis to scrunch his shoulders in faux protest, he’s certain that Harry feels the same.

“Well, if we go back to Judgment City to work after we’ve studied, we’ll have to be separated sometimes, love. You’ll be busy being a brilliant baker or chef and I’ll be some sort of errand boy at Marcus’ firm,” Louis comments. Harry’s face immediately softens and he gets this adorable puppy dog look in his eyes when he replies, “Loouuuis! I’m so happy you want to go back there to work. It will be absolutely wonderful.”

Louis remembers the first time Harry brought up returning to Judgment City. It was right after their _Five in Five_ video screening and on that day Louis was so frightened about his impending verdict that he couldn’t even commit to returning with Harry if they both advanced, because even then, Louis was worried he’d be sent back to Earth. But now, here they are just two days later and they are both moving forward and Louis wants nothing more than to assist the new Intakes on their own journeys, especially after so many people helped him along the way.

“I just want to show my appreciation to the universe,” Louis answers, and then he tilts his head so that he’s nuzzled up even closer to Harry and he presses a kiss against his cheekbone. “It brought me back to you.”

“Lou,” Harry whispers and then stands upright, depositing a series of wet kisses on the back of Louis’ neck that send shivers down Louis’ spine.

“How long do we study in the next realm before we can come back?” Louis asks, having missed the New Resident Orientation entirely and thus completely clueless as to how the next phase of his existence will commence.

“I think they said during the Orientation that we study for ten years and then we can decide if we want to stay there or go to work.”

“Ten years!” Louis exclaims, completely shocked that the process lasts that long. He figured people who go on to the next realm might study for a year or two, four tops. Louis certainly didn’t imagine that they’d be there longer than the time it takes to earn an advanced degree on Earth. But then he considers how much there is to learn about the universe and he’s suddenly surprised they won’t be spending one hundred years in the next realm.

“I could be wrong,” Harry confesses. “It might be less than ten. I didn’t really pay much attention during the Orientation. I was too upset. I was crying so hard they actually asked me to leave because I was too much of a distraction.”

“Oh Haz,” Louis says, a wave of sadness passing through him for all that Harry suffered. He turns around to face the other man directly. “I’m so sorry, darling. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you.”

“Louis, it’s okay,” Harry answers. “I promise, it’s all better now that you’re here. Besides, before I left the Center Sam told me that she’d arrange to have an Orientation video sent to me on the train so that I could catch up with what I had missed. We can watch it together.”

“I’d love that, Harry,” Louis responds. Harry pulls Louis into a slow, lazy kiss then, the two just relishing that their shared period of darkness is over and that there is no limit to their time together.

“We have forever,” Harry says, pulling back and then pushing forward to lick into Louis’ mouth again.

“Forever,” Louis mumbles as plush lips fold over his own.

They continue to snog for another minute or two but then Louis becomes aware of the dull ache in his hip and the skin that itches beneath his soiled clothing and just wants to freshen up. Maybe if he stands under the pulsating spray of a hot shower for a bit, some of the pain in his sore muscles and bones will ease. It will definitely be nice to be clean again.

“I should get in the shower,” he says as they finally pull apart. “I can only imagine what I look and smell like.” Harry raises an eyebrow seductively, eyeing Louis up and down before leaning forward to take a sniff of Louis’ dirty, bloodied skin.

“You look gorgeous and you smell like Heaven,” Harry announces, and by the dreamy look on his face, he appears to actually mean it.

“Liar,” Louis teases. “I know I look god-awful and I can’t even imagine how terrible I must smell.”

“Residents don’t lie, Louis. You’re absolutely perfect to me in every possible way,” Harry declares, and Louis believes him. He knows that Harry adores every grimy, sweaty, stinky inch of his soul mate. Louis ducks his head to hide the blush that is no doubt only detectable on his left cheek, his right cheek already bright crimson and purple from the repeated strikes of his palm it sustained earlier, not to mention the thin gash that runs along his cheekbone. “I’ll get your shower started,” Harry says, carefully pressing a kiss over the broken skin.

The en suite has a walk-in shower, toilet, and a clear glass pedestal sink. It’s striking in simplicity and its sleek, modern design, the back wall of the shower curved to mimic the shape of the outer wall of the train, with a glass pocket door that slides into the adjoining wall when the shower stall is open. The entire wall and floor space of the room is covered in matte black tile, with low lighting spaced throughout to create a warm and comfortable environment. The most striking feature of the en suite is found in a rounded skylight that encompasses the ceiling and even though it’s late in the evening, the stars are shining and the moon is hanging low and the view through that window above is simply breathtaking. But Louis will fully enjoy that view later because for now, all he really cares about is getting clean. The shower stall is not large enough to comfortably accommodate two people and Louis feels disappointed at that fact because showering with Harry is one of his favorite things.

“Don’t worry, Lou,” Harry says, carefully adjusting the shower temperature and testing it on his right wrist to make sure it’s not too hot or too cold for his soul mate. Louis loves him so much. “There’s a hot tub in the spa car. We’ll have a soak together before this trip is through.”

“Spa car?” Louis questions. “This train is downright posh, isn’t it?” Harry grins.

“I wouldn’t really know. I’ve hardly looked around since I arrived. When they wouldn’t let me get off the train after you showed up outside of my window, I ran straight to the caboose car, hoping to see you.” His voice goes quiet and pained. “Then I saw you wandering out there on the tracks. You looked so disoriented and hurt. I wanted to go to you so badly, Louis.”

“I saw you, darling,” Louis replies. “You were pounding on the window as the train pulled away from the train yard and I was so desperate to get to you.” Louis averts his eyes, quietly making his next proclamation. “All of these Residents were trying to help me, Harry. They wanted to take me back to The Regency, or someplace comfortable so that I could sleep. But once I jumped into the gap and was down on the tracks, I decided that I would transition right there, because that place was my last connection to you.”

Harry makes a quiet crying sound and steps away from the shower to once again throw his arms around his soul mate.

“You fought for us, Louis,” he says, his voice so earnest that it makes Louis’ heart clench.

“I did,” Louis agrees. “But Harry, you were fighting for us, too. You let everyone on this train know how angry you were. I’m so proud of you, darling.” Harry’s lips turn up into a shy smile.

“Let’s get you in the shower, sweetheart,” Harry says, his cheeks flushing a slight pink at Louis’ praise. Louis pulls off his tupa belt and tosses it into the hamper that sits beside the sink and then carefully slides off his shoes, his raw and blistered feet protesting as he steps onto the cool tile floor.

“You have leaves on your feet, Lou,” Harry says, pointing at the crinkled and frayed bits of greenery stuck to Louis’ feet and ankles, the words coming out more as a question than as a comment.

“Yeah, I used them for bandages when I was running, Haz. My feet started to hurt and I needed a buffer,” he says, completely downplaying the severity of the condition of his ragged feet; what started out as two massive blisters having added a half a dozen smaller sores by the time all was said and done. “I’ll be so glad to get out of this dirty tupa,” Louis casually continues. “I turned it inside out before I entered the train station and so it’s dirty on both sides. I somehow managed to get utterly filthy on my way to see you, love.”

He grabs the damp skirt in his hands and hikes the garment up to his waist, shimmying his hips as he crosses his arms and pulls the material up his chest and finally up and over his head. He hears Harry intake a sharp breath of air, but the meaning behind the sound doesn’t really register as Louis tosses the soiled tupa into the hamper. The only thing Louis is concentrating on is getting into the shower and washing his body clean of the remnants of his unimaginable journey.

He bends slightly as he slides his pants down his legs, the simple action causing him to hiss in pain, but he doesn’t even give it a second thought, he’s so used to his aching body by now that these sharp little twinges almost seem old hat. He steps out of his pants and leaves them on the tile floor though, the thought of actually bending over to retrieve them when his hip and thigh are hurting so badly is a less than appealing prospect, no matter how familiar he is with the discomfort.

He turns to step into the shower, but then Harry cries out so loudly that Louis momentarily freezes, completely stunned.

“What is it darling?” Louis asks, turning to face him, his voice panicked. “Are you all right?” Harry just breathes heavily, tears welling in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead makes another crying noise and Louis has no idea what is happening. “Please! Tell me what’s wrong, Haz. Have I upset you somehow?” Harry immediately shakes his head and the first tear falls down his cheek. Louis steps toward Harry then, reaching out and thumbing the moisture off Harry’s soft skin. “Harry, what is it? Please tell me why you’re so upset.”

“Louis,” Harry answers, his voice breaking. He draws in a series of short breaths, trying to get himself under control. “You’re so badly hurt.”

“What?” Louis asks, completely taken aback.

Encompassing the back of the door to the en suite is a full-length mirror and Harry closes it and guides Louis to it so that he can actually get a proper look at himself.

Louis is positively stunned by what he sees.

Louis’ naked body looks unusually pale and as he slowly turns to take in his reflection, he realizes that his pallor only serves to highlight his injuries. His entire left leg is covered in bruises, from the top side of his buttock to the bottom of his ankle. The length of his hip is bright purple and red and there are large, deep gashes and smaller spots where the skin is simply scraped away from when Louis slid over rocks and bramble as he barreled down the hillside. The pain from the fall was absolutely mind numbing, but still, Louis had no idea he was injured so badly. Both of Louis’ kneecaps are heavily bruised and scraped from where he fell on the gravel after he jumped into the gap and later when he was chasing Harry’s train. The bottom of Louis’ right shin is covered in a smattering of small scratches and cuts from when he slammed into the hydrangea bush, but it’s his left shin that is in the absolute worst condition. The very first injury Louis sustained on his journey was walking into the marble tile that was stacked on the fifteenth floor of the Review Center, and that injury is severe. His entire shin is bruised a purplish blue that is so dark it almost appears to be black. Running horizontally across the top of his shin, just an inch or so below his knee, is a large, gaping wound that looks like someone took a sharp knife and hacked out a slice of Louis’ flesh. The blood in the cut is thick and coagulated, but it hasn’t formed into any kind of a scab, the constant running Louis engaged in having served to keep the injury open and raw. Louis can’t even see the bottom of his feet in the mirror, but he knows they’re a mess too. Not to mention the fact Louis’ right cheek is beet red and tender from the repeated strikes, and that his temple is black and blue and speckled with dried blood from where he slammed into the railroad tie when he fell. He also has a huge cut on his bicep from being struck by the lilac branch, and his hands are scratched and sore on both the palms and their tops.

Louis is a dead ad executive who just had a run across the most beautiful landscape he’s ever seen; a journey that _never_ should have been so brutal on his body. But what he looks like as he stares at his reflection in the mirror is some kind of ancient gladiator who just survived a barbaric battle in the lion’s den. No wonder Harry is so mortified.

“I’ll be all right, love,” Louis says, his voice cheerful as he attempts to appease Harry’s heartache over the sight of him. “I wasn’t kidding when I said Resident bodies heal quickly. Marcus told me I should be better in a day or two.”

“But you’re hurting now,” Harry counters, his voice utterly distraught.

“Merely a flesh wound,” Louis teases, trying to make light with the help of Monty Python. Harry’s lips turn up into the smallest smile at the joke and Louis feels relieved. He knows that a part of Harry feels guilty over Louis’ injuries because he sustained them all trying to get to him, but Louis doesn’t want Harry to feel the slightest bit upset over his physical state. Every injury on his battered body was more than worth it because they brought him to Harry.

Just then, there is a knock on the main door to their room and Louis turns to Harry saying, “Why don’t you answer that, love? I’ll jump in the shower while you’re gone.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees. “But I’m coming right back and if you need anything, wait for me because I don’t want you getting further hurt.”

“I’ll be fine. I promise,” Louis assures and Harry nods his head once in agreement and then gives Louis a quick kiss on the lips before slipping out of the room. Louis carefully pads across the floor the few feet to the shower then, pulling open the sliding door to the stall and stepping inside. He lets out a low, satisfied growl when the hot water hits his weary skin.

The shower nozzle is a huge, flat square that hangs overhead and Louis feels like he’s standing beneath a hot springs waterfall, the pounding liquid massaging his sore muscles and easing the tension in his aching bones. The stall is fully stocked with a variety of toiletries and Louis washes his body first, using his hands to apply the soap to his bruised and scraped flesh, fearful that the soft loofah that hangs on a peg might be too abrasive against his tender skin. As sore as he is though, it just feels so incredible to clean the sweat and the blood and the grime off of his body and as he carefully washes around his injuries, Louis is so happy to be standing beneath the hot spray that he finds himself humming a random tune that he doesn’t even recognize.

He leaves the door to the shower open because he doesn’t want to be separated from Harry by the thick glass and almost as if on cue, Harry returns to the bathroom and stands so close to the edge of the stall that if he moved forward even an inch he’d be underwater, the front of his tupa quickly becoming dotted with little flecks of spray that flick off Louis’ body as he washes and rinses his hair.

“You’re going to get all wet, Haz,” Louis says as he leans his head back so that the water is gently streaming down his face.

“Don’t care,” Harry answers and Louis looks at him and grins. Clearly, they’re going to be stuck to one another like glue for the foreseeable future. “Does it feel good?” Harry asks, smiling at the obvious revelry Louis is taking in this simple hygiene ritual.

“Feels like Heaven,” Louis answers.

“You’re my Heaven,” Harry reminds. Louis can’t let that one go unchecked and he leans out of the spray, pressing his lips against Harry’s in a series of increasingly long kisses before finally stepping back and shutting off the water.

“And you’re my miracle,” Louis replies.

Louis reaches for a towel, but he doesn’t even know why he bothered because immediately Harry intercepts him and drops to the floor and begins drying Louis’ feet. Harry has performed this ritual since their very first night together and yet it never ceases to make Louis’ heart swell and his throat tighten with bubbling emotions at how loving and tender the gesture is. Harry is being so careful, blotting the towel gently against Louis’ skin to absorb the moisture without further aggravating his injuries and Louis feels completely loved and taken care of and best of all, he gets to revel in this feeling forever. He’s so caught up in the magnitude of the moment that his breathing becomes heavier as he tries to control his tears, but by the time Harry starts to towel his chest, both men are sniffling and their eyes are wet.

“Didn’t think I’d ever get to do this again,” Harry says quietly.

“I didn’t either,” Louis agrees. “We’re so lucky, darling.”

“It wasn’t luck,” Harry protests. “It was _you_ , Louis. You didn’t give up, even when people were coming after you to take you back to the hotel. You fought the entire time. You’re the reason for everything.” Louis is too overwhelmed to even respond.

Harry stands up then, carefully toweling Louis’ pelvis and sore hip, brushing the thick terry cloth material over Louis’ chest and back and then down his arms. He uses a hand towel to carefully pat dry Louis’ hair, and then he tosses both wet linens into the hamper before grabbing a fresh towel for Louis to wrap around his waist.

“Michael sent up some medicine and a snack for you. He gave me something for you to drink and some liniment for me to put on your injuries, okay?”

“That sounds wonderful, Haz,” Louis agrees.

Harry leads Louis into the main cabin and Louis takes small, timid steps because the broken blisters on his feet have softened due to the water of the shower and they burn at the slightest contact with the flooring.

The sleeper car features the same type of modern design as the en suite, with minimal accessories and stylish, yet comfortable furnishings. The three interior walls are covered in dark walnut paneling, with the slats actually woven to create a three-dimensional pattern across each wall’s surface. The entire outer wall of the cabin is one massive window, and Harry shows Louis the remote control that can be used to open and close the built-in blinds. Best of all, when he directs that same remote towards the ceiling, a set of blinds retract that encompasses the majority of its curved surface, revealing a massive skylight that provides an unfettered view of the sky above. It’s simply spectacular and Louis comments that they’ll get to sleep beneath the stars.

There is a full size bed that abuts flush against the window, the mattress significantly smaller than Louis’ bed at The Regency, and a mere fraction of the size of Harry’s bed at The Ambassador, but still, it’s plenty big enough for two and Louis doesn’t think he’ll mind being cuddled up extra close to Harry for the next few nights. At the head of the bed sits a small nightstand and Louis can’t help but point it out to his partner.

“Do you think it’s stocked?” he asks, the implication about what type of ‘stock’ he is referring to going unspoken.

“Checked while you were in the shower,” Harry answers and then he smiles and bites his bottom lip, his cheeks flushing just the slightest pink. “It’s stocked, Louis. We’re going to need to get you better straight away.” Louis shakes his head and grins.

“Dirty boy,” he comments and Harry preens at the familiar nickname.

There is a dresser and flat screen television on the wall that faces the foot of the bed, while the main wall next to the cabin’s entranceway boasts an overstuffed chair, small writing desk, mini fridge, and built-in cupboard. All in all, the sleeper cabin employs a judicious, yet striking use of space and the accommodations manage to be both stylish and cozy.

For the dozenth time this evening, Louis marvels over the fact that he’s actually here.

“Believe it, sweetheart,” Harry says and then he walks over to the writing desk and picks up a glass that’s filled with an orange liquid and hands it to Louis. “Michael said for you to drink this. It has some medicine to help your body heal and a painkiller mixed in. He said it would really help you to feel better.”

Louis takes the glass from Harry and drinks its contents down in a few quick gulps. The liquid tastes fruity, but not overly sweet and he’s barely swallowed the last sip before he notices that the pain that is radiating throughout his hip and leg is beginning to ease and the dull throb in his temple falls but disappears.

“Jesus, Haz,” he mutters, completely flabbergasted by the instantaneous relief the beverage has afforded. “It’s already starting to work.”

“Oh, Lou! That’s so wonderful,” Harry replies. “You’ll be feeling better in no time, sweetheart.”

There is a tall, capped bottle sitting on the same tray that held the glass of juice, as well as a tube of ointment, a small stack of white cotton flannels and gauze bandages. Beside that sits a covered dish that Louis assumes contains his snack. Harry takes one of the flannels off the tray and pours some of the liquid from the bottle onto it, saturating the top layer of material.

“It will be easier if I care for your hip while you’re standing, Louis,” Harry comments. “But I’ll have you sit in the chair to take care of the rest, yeah?”

“Okay, darling,” Louis answers. Harry smiles at him, but then his eyes rake over Louis’ body, which is already starting to return to his normal lightly tanned color, no doubt aided by the medicine he consumed, and Harry suddenly appears shy.

“Um… can you open your towel, Lou?” he asks. “So I can apply the medicine, I mean.”

Louis immediately grips the end where the towel is tucked around his waist, pulling loose the fabric and letting it drop to the floor. He was literally stood naked next to Harry less than five minutes earlier, but by the audible gasp Harry lets out when the towel hits the plush carpeting, you’d think it was the first time Harry had seen Louis’ nude body in years. “You’re… ah… You’re already starting to look better, Louis.”

“Thanks, Haz,” Louis answers, trying to contain his smirk.

“Okay, this is the liniment I told you about,” Harry narrates as he drops to his knees at Louis’ side. Louis braces himself. He’s had his fair share of scrapes and bruises over the years, particularly due to all of the time he’s spent engaged in sport, and he’s nervous that when Harry applies the liniment to his skin it’s going to painfully sting like the rubbing alcohol and other topical solutions used to treat bodily wounds on Earth.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

Harry presses the wet cloth against Louis’ scraped and scratched hip and all that Louis’ feels is sweet relief. The liquid on the cloth is quickly absorbed into the many open wounds that cover his bruised skin, and the formula feels cool and soothing, alleviating the pain that Louis has been enduring since he first took his tumble down the hillside. The liniment feels so good on his injured body that Louis cannot help himself and he lets out a low, guttural moan.

_“Fuck! Don’t look at his cock. Don’t look at his cock. Do. Not. Look. At. His. Cock.”_

Louis throws his head back and barks a loud laugh, startling Harry whose face is furrowed in concentration as he continues to press the saturated flannel against Louis’ injured skin.

“Having impure thoughts are you, Haz?” he teases. Harry’s head snaps up and he looks at Louis, his mouth dropping open in surprise, his cheeks blushing furiously. He leans back on his knees and scrubs his free hand across his face, pouting and blowing out a frustrated breath. Louis thinks he looks positively adorable.

“You know, I love being connected to you in every way, Louis,” Harry starts, at first indignant and then giving in to an annoyed smirk. “But this reading each other’s thoughts business does have some drawbacks.”

“Well, it’s just nice to know you still want me, Harry. Despite my god-awful appearance,” Louis replies, and he reaches over and gently strokes his fingers through Harry’s hair. Harry practically mewls at the touch.

“Still want you?” Harry questions. “Do you have any idea how you look standing here? Jesus, Louis. After everything you’ve been through you’re still the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. I positively want to ravage you.”

The husk in Harry’s voice and the meaning behind his words just _do_ something to Louis. Marcus may have warned him he should take a day before getting “too busy” with his boy, but Louis can’t help himself because the way that Harry is looking at him is making his head spin and he immediately finds himself thinking, _Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard. Do. Not. Get. Hard._

This time, it’s Harry’s turn to laugh.

“Well,” Harry says, standing and facing Louis. He slowly drags his index finger down the center of Louis’ chest, all the way to his treasure trail and Louis’ cock twitches at the sensation. “Glad to know we’re on the same page.”

“Fucking hell,” Louis mutters and Harry just grins, walking over to the dresser and retrieving a pair of thin, silky boxer briefs.

“They’ve already delivered your clothes, Lou,” he says completely changing the subject as if just two seconds earlier the air wasn’t thick with sexual tension. Louis would drag him over to the bed and ravage him right now if he thought his battered feet could survive the trip.

“We’ve got time, Louis,” Harry reminds him, again reading his thoughts. He hands Louis the pants and before Louis can even put them on, he’s sliding his arms around Louis’ waist and kissing him deep and slow, their tongues gliding together and their lips smacking with delicious, warm presses. When Harry pulls back to break the kiss, Louis’ lips tingle and he sees stars. “Just a preview,” Harry says, smiling mischievously. “Now be a good boy and put your pants on.”

“Jesus fuck, Harry,” Louis groans because if Harry is trying to ease Louis’ burgeoning arousal he’s doing a shit job. Begrudgingly, Louis dons his pants.

Harry takes Louis’ hand then and walks him to the chair and as soon as Louis sits down, Harry is pressing a fresh flannel saturated with more liniment against the gash on Louis’ temple and once the liquid soaks in, he’s lowering the cloth to Louis’ right cheek.

“What happened to your cheek, Lou?” Harry asks, gently patting the cool wet material against Louis’ burning skin. It feels positively divine.

“It’s sort of embarrassing,” Louis admits.

“Why would it be embarrassing?” Harry questions and then he leans back to study Louis for a moment before pouring more of the solution onto the flannel and then applying it to the cut on Louis’ bicep.

“Because it was self-inflicted,” Louis answers and then he ducks his head, completely mortified by his confession. Striking himself repeatedly was bad enough, but actually admitting that he took such extreme measures makes Louis feel somehow ashamed, as if he there was no real purpose behind the self-harm. “I, um… I was having trouble staying awake and the Resident coffee had worn off, so I found that if I hit myself… really hard… it sort of, gave me a burst of energy and enabled me to keep going.”

“Louis,” Harry gasps. He tosses the flannel onto the desk and carefully leans forward as to not jar Louis’ legs or bump his knees, and then he rests his head on Louis’ lap, gently hugging his thighs. “I can’t believe what you went through. You’re so brave, sweetheart.” Louis can feel Harry’s tears trickle onto his skin and he doesn’t want Harry to be sad or overwhelmed by anything Louis did to get to this point.

“Every action I took to get to you was worth it, Harry,” Louis says, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair. “I’m embarrassed that I couldn’t stay awake on my own and had to go to such lengths, but I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Love you, Louis,” Harry quietly says, his lips brushing against Louis’ thigh as he speaks.

“I love you too, darling,” Louis answers.

They stay like this for several minutes, the reality of all that they’ve been through washing over both of them, the moment meaningful and infinitely tender. Finally, Harry sits back and looks up to Louis, who gently glides his thumbs beneath Harry’s eyes to wipe away the lingering tears.

“I’ll take care of your legs and feet now, love.”

Harry gets up and walks back over to the desk, but before preparing another flannel, he removes the lid from Louis’ snack plate and hands it to him, grabbing him a bottle of juice from the fridge. The plate is loaded with an assortment of cheeses, little rounds of sliced pepperoni and prosciutto, crackers, and fruit. As soon as Louis looks at it his stomach growls loudly and he immediately makes a mini sandwich of sorts, stacking a thin piece of prosciutto and slice of Parmesan atop a cracker and diving in, his hunger now back in full force.

“Oh god, that’s good,” Louis comments, his eyes falling shut as the salty bite of the meat blends with the smooth sharpness of the cheese and the satisfying crunch of the cracker. “I forgot how hungry I was.”

“Eat all you want, sweetheart,” Harry answers. “Just don’t forget there’s a buffet at midnight.” Louis shoves another cracker sandwich into his mouth, swallowing it down with a swig of juice. He doesn’t think he’ll have any trouble enjoying the buffet.

“As long as there isn’t Resident food there. After drinking that horrible coffee I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to eat that slop. I can’t imagine how anyone does, really.”

Harry is again sat kneeling in front of Louis, and this time he’s carried the tray of medicinal products and bandages and set it on the floor beside him. After taking care of Louis’ hands, Harry applies the liniment to Louis’ knees and the gash on his shin, and then he holds up a tube of ointment and shows it to Louis, advising him that Michael told him he should apply it to Louis’ worst injuries.

“I don’t think our brains will be big enough for Resident food anytime soon,” Harry answers, returning to the original subject. He uses a square of gauze to apply the ointment to the laceration on Louis’ temple and then dabs a generous dose on the large gash on his shin, applying a bandage over the wound on Louis’ leg. “They might have mentioned something about it taking a few years for our palates to start to fully develop during Orientation, but that was about the time I was asked to wait out in the hallway, so I’m not sure.”

Louis immediately leans forward and plants a salty kiss to Harry’s lips.

“I can’t believe my soul mate was treated so poorly. Whoever was in charge of that Orientation should be ashamed.”

“Nah,” Harry says on a laugh. “I really was throwing a fit. I’m not particularly proud of myself, but I was just... heartbroken, and I sort of let everyone know it.”

“You’re so wonderful, Harry,” Louis says, his voice full of awe. Harry just smiles at Louis, shaking his head slightly as he gets back to work.

When Harry has applied the liniment to all of the scrapes, cuts, and gashes on Louis’ battered body, he begins to work on Louis’ feet, once again getting emotional as he sees the extent of Louis’ injuries for the first time.

“Your feet are positively raw, Lou,” Harry says. He soothes the patches of torn and blistered skin with the liquid, and then he applies a thick layer of the ointment to each of the open sores, the heavy cream providing instant relief. When both of Louis’ feet are treated and coated, Harry wraps the injured areas in the gauze bandages and then he reaches beneath Louis’ chair and pulls out a pair of the thickest, most cushiony-looking slippers Louis has ever seen. The slippers are bright white and have memory foam insoles with a wide strap at the top and open toes and heels. They’re covered in cotton material that is so plush and soft that it feels like Louis’ feet are wrapped in little clouds and as Harry slides the slipper on to Louis’ right foot, Louis hums contentedly. He looks down at Harry as he repeats the process with the left slipper and considering that Harry is kneeling before him and performing a very common fairytale trope, Louis can’t help but comment, “You look like Prince Charming down there, Haz. Are you going to take me to the ball tonight?”

“If I’m Prince Charming that makes you Cinderella,” Harry answers, delighted. His entire face lights up with a huge smile, his green eyes sparkling beneath the glow of the stars that shine down through the skylight and Louis realizes he would go to any ball Harry ever wanted to drag him to, but he doesn’t say as much, instead he teases Harry.

“I think we both know that _you’re_ the princess in this relationship,” Louis grins. Harry does his little fluff, swoop, and tug routine with his hair and pouts his bottom lip. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he plays. Just the sight of his pretty pink mouth and hooded eyes go straight to Louis’ dick.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Louis sighs.

“You’re already dead,” comes Harry’s expected retort, both men laughing at the now tired but nonetheless endlessly appropriate joke. “What shall we do next, Lou?” Harry asks. Louis has quite a few things he wants to do with Harry, but first, he wants to have a real taste of what it’s like to travel on a train to the next realm. Being here is such an unbelievable dream come true and Louis wants to soak in the entire experience.

“Would you mind if we went downstairs and sat with the others in the passenger car for a bit? I’ve dreamed of sitting on this train with you practically since the moment we met.”

“I’d really like that, Louis,” Harry answers.

Harry goes into the en suite and freshens up and when he comes out he looks completely revitalized, his face scrubbed clean and his hair brushed out and glossy, his curls now bouncing on his shoulders.

Louis opens the cupboard and removes one of the New Resident tupas that was delivered for him and when he slides it over his head and it falls down over his body, he sighs contentedly because the material feels like the finest silk against his skin and it’s a happy counter to the filthy garment he was wearing earlier. He dons his belt and combs out his fringe and after Harry assures him that he doesn’t have to change into his new shoes and can wear his slippers instead, they head downstairs to the rear passenger car.

The car is only about half full, many of the New Residents no doubt settling into their rooms or exploring the other cabins on the train. Peter and Margaret are sitting together near the middle of the car and talking animatedly about all the things they hope to see and do in the next realm and while Louis and Harry stop by to greet them, they don’t sit with them, preferring to experience this part of their journey alone.

The passenger car boasts the same woven, walnut paneling found in Louis and Harry’s cabin and the seats are massive reclining numbers with similar first-class amenities to the luxury seats of the blue trams that service the guests of The Ambassador. Louis and Harry decide to sit near the back in a quiet little area with empty seats all around.

“You take the window, Lou,” Harry offers and Louis slides in first, pulling up the arm rest that separates his and Harry’s seats so that they can curl in close together. They’ve barely gotten comfortable and Louis hasn’t even had time to look out the window before Harry is holding out his left wrist.

“Show me,” he says. At first, Louis has no idea what Harry is talking about, but when Harry’s expression goes all doe-eyed and soft and he nudges his wrist in front of Louis’ chest, Louis realizes exactly what the other man is referencing. “I told you that you would show me tonight on the train, Louis,” Harry continues, “and here we are.”

“So we are,” Louis agrees. Carefully, he tugs at the cuff of Harry’s left sleeve and spreads the stretchy material, pushing the sleeve up Harry’s arm and revealing the wide, sea blue ribbon that is wrapped around his wrist.

“When I had to change into my new tupa and I saw this ribbon and thought about you placing that little piece of paper on my arm…” Harry begins, but then he gets choked up and has to take a moment, swallowing down his tears before he continues to speak. “Louis, it hurt so much. I didn’t know how I was going to go on without you.”

“Now you don’t have to,” Louis whispers, leaning in and kissing Harry slow and sweet.

“Don’t take off the ribbon, yet,” Harry requests when they pull apart. “I’ve a feeling that I’m going to want to hold on to that slip of paper forever and as comfortable as these tupas are, they don’t have any bloody pockets and that’s pretty inconvenient. I can put it with our things when we get back to our room.”

“All right, love,” Louis agrees. He takes Harry’s wrist in hand then and with his free hand, he slides his index finger beneath the ribbon and along Harry’s forearm, pushing the little folded sticky note out the opposite end, Harry staring at him intently all the while. Louis picks up the note off Harry’s wrist and brings it to his lips, kissing the little square of paper before handing it to his soul mate. Harry’s hands are trembling as he takes the note from him and when he slowly opens the note and sees the red ink, his eyes begin to water and Louis thinks to himself that they’ve both cried more in the past few hours than either of them ever possibly cried during the entire course of their lifetimes on Earth. Harry reads the note out loud.

“I saw you and I fell in love,” he recites, his voice choked and wet.

“And you smiled because you knew,” they both say together.

“Loooouis,” Harry whispers.

“I just wanted you to have something to remember me by, Harry. In case I didn’t pass my Review.” He takes the note from Harry and folds it, tucking it beneath the ribbon to keep it safe. The words Louis carefully wrote on that little slip of paper mean everything to the two of them and really, outside of the complimentary tattoos that are inked across their skin, that simple sentiment, written on a Spiderman sticky note and burned into a piece of driftwood, represents the first actual connection Louis and Harry had in this realm, and it was a connection that was forged on Earth. Those words mean everything. Those words personify their union and their love story.

Louis turns fully to face Harry then and pulls him into his arms and the two men kiss as if time has stood still and in a way, it has, because their time together is endless. Louis cups his hands on either side of Harry’s cheeks, his fingertips pushing through his thick curls and they feel silky and soft against his skin and Louis feels a rush of warmth when he realizes that he gets to run his fingers through those tresses forever. Harry slides one large hand behind Louis’ neck and with his other, he gently strokes along Louis’ jaw, the slight touch sending ripples of pleasure throughout Louis’ body and he knows that before the night is through, he’s going to feel that pleasure everywhere.

Harry pulls back just enough to nuzzle his nose against Louis’ for a moment, and then he presses back in, their tongues tangling together and their mouths overlapping in a continuous play of back and forth, full lips licking against a thinner pair. Finally, Louis breaks the kiss, not wanting things to get too heated while they’re sitting in the passenger cabin; they’ve already put on a big enough show outside the train earlier when Michael was trying to get them to board.

Harry grins then and he shakes his head and raises an eyebrow as if he’s got something to say, but then he pauses and it’s obvious that he isn’t sure if he should voice his thoughts. He looks like the cat that just swallowed the canary and Louis is utterly endeared.

“What are you thinking, Harry?” he asks, unable to read exactly what is going on inside Harry’s head. Harry grins wider, playing coy and of course Louis does not miss the opportunity to dip his thumb into Harry’s dimple before leaning forward and giving Harry three, rapid fire kisses. “Tell me, love. Go on.”

“Well, I was just thinking that this is one time when I’ve never been happier to say that ‘I told you so’, Louis.”

“You told me so?” Louis questions, but he suddenly knows exactly what Harry is referring to. He looks at his soul mate and Harry looks so joyful and open, like he’s wearing his love for Louis on his sleeve, his entire being emanating warmth and light. It strikes Louis then that Harry deserves this moment. He deserves to tease Louis with the words on the tip of his tongue, because he’s never doubted those words the entire time they’ve been together. If Louis heard Harry say the little mantra to him once, he heard him say it a thousand times and Louis knows that Harry always meant it with his whole heart whenever he offered those words of encouragement to him. “Say it, darling,” Louis prompts. He reaches up and tucks a loose curl behind Harry’s ear and Harry just grins wider, obviously proud of himself, and so, so happy. “Tell me what you told me before, Harry. I want to hear you say it, once again.”

Harry takes Louis’ hands in his own, tenderly cradling them and then pulling them up to his lips to kiss his injured palms. He looks Louis in the eyes and Louis immediately feels like he’s drowning in those green pools, they’re so beautiful and warm and they shine just for him. Harry swallows thickly, the emotional intensity of this moment temporarily stealing his tongue. But then Harry finds his voice.

“We’re moving forward together, Louis,” he says, his voice clear and strong and ringing out in the cabin. Louis’ eyes fall shut and he feels flooded with relief at hearing Harry’s declaration, because for the first time since he laid eyes on his soul mate and for the _very first time_ since his soul mate first spoke those words to him, they are undeniably, irrefutably true.

Louis looks out the window for a moment at the landscape flying by as the train barrels forward down the tracks, Harry’s arms wrapped around him tight. It’s dark out, but the sky is illuminated with more stars than Louis ever saw on Earth, and they stand out as shiny beacons like luminescent pinwheels that cast hues of purples, reds, greens, and blues that radiate in the atmosphere, defying all expectations of what a night sky should look like. The ground is lush and green and Louis can make out mountains in the distance and a shimmering river that snakes across the land. It’s all so beautiful and Louis gets to experience all of it with his soul mate.

Harry never lost his faith in Louis and that gave Louis the strength to fight for them. But Louis had the fight in him all along. He isn't driven by fear and he most certainly isn't afraid of love. Louis just needed to believe in himself and now, without a doubt, he does. He turns back to face Harry, who smiles back at him expectantly and Louis repeats the words that he’s said before and has been longing to truly believe since the first time he heard them fall from Harry’s beautiful lips.

“We’re moving forward together.”

And they do.

 

 ~~The End~~... The Beginning

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STAY TUNED!!! HARRY POV EPILOGUE WILL BE POSTED IN THE COMING WEEKS! :) With Smut! Ha!
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> Those of you who read this fic as a WIP are the real heroes! I've been posting for fourteen months and there were often months-long breaks between chapters. WIP Readers - Thank you so much for your endless patience.
> 
> Thank you to all of those who have subscribed to the story, as well as those who offered kudos and comments. They're so sincerely appreciated. I never really gave much thought to those things before I started writing this, and that was a big failure on my part. I'm now trying to make a point to give kudos when I like a story because it really means a lot to be acknowledged for your hard work.
> 
> ChickenandChili was the very first person to read or comment on this fic. Thank you for that. xx
> 
> My beta Juan isn't on AO3, nor does he read fic, but he helped me immeasurably. I love him to the moon in back and he deserves a shout out.
> 
> My future collaborator and fan of the red-coat, gorgeous Jules. I love you. Thank you for reading all the little sneaky peek snippets of the AF and being generally amazing with your lovely words and feedback. Peach. Peach. Peach. What would I do if I couldn't chat with you 64,211 times a day? SOAT forevs!!
> 
> To my Head Cheerleader, Jeannie: thank you, you sweet, darling woman. You're so lovely and kind and I'm glad to have you as my friend. Your faith and positivity are awe-inspiring. <3
> 
> My fellow appreciator of Stephen King, the sweet Keli. Thank you for listening to all of my job stress and all of the wonderful input regarding the whole interview process, as well as the discussions about family and friends. I've loved getting to know you!
> 
> Luci isn't even reading this smut and I still had her dressing Louis up in a porn star footie kit because I love her so much. <3
> 
> Mel, Bianka, Jean, Gaby, Mary, Sam, Charlie, Sol, Mahi, AnnMarie, Joh, Anne, Becca, Jacky, Vanessa, and so many others, thank you for being amazing. And for reading! And also, just generally being lovely. 
> 
> THANK YOU CHERRYSTREET FOR BEING KIND AND AMAZING!! Her fics are wonderful and you should read them. I would link you to her page, but I had to have her help me put a link to my own so I wouldn't know where to start. She's so great. :) 
> 
> Thank you all for spreading the word about The Afterlife Fic via twitter and tumblr!
> 
> Also: TEAM INAPPROPRIATE FOREVER!!!
> 
> Writing this final chapter was very therapeutic for me after losing my best friend. It's sort of strange that working on a story about death and loss provided me a reprieve from the death and loss that I was dealing with in my own life. A lot of days I was simply too sad to write, but in the end, writing really helped to take my mind off everything. My best friend was literally "the best" person. She was so wonderful, kind, and generous, inside and out. Also, she was wicked funny. I can hear her laugh in my head as I write this, and it's just the best thing. Grief is the price we pay for love and this heartache just means I was lucky enough to have a love and friendship so great that it hurts this much to lose. Thank you, SEG, for that gift. I'll see you again, someday. "I'm gonna need you later when you're not around. But I can take it, I won't look down."
> 
> Who knows. I may check back in with the Afterlife in later days. If so, I'll turn this into a series. 
> 
> Oh! I'm on Tumblr. I've no idea how to share the link, but feel free to visit me at IAmJaggerme.tumblr.com 
> 
> As always, Peace, Love, and Larry.


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